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THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

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LIBRARY  FUND  COMMITTEE 


A  WOMAN  ALONE 

IN  THE   HEART  OF  JAPAN 


J\  Oloman  film  in 
(be  fieart  of  Japan 


BY 

Gertrude 


ILLUSTRATED 

9 


BOSTON       »9»9» 

X.  C.  page  &  Company 

*       *       *       *       MDCCCCVI 

"^      <M      '^»      ~^M      «&     'M      'M      ~^»      "^A      ^ v 


Copyright,  1906 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  October,  1906 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

EUctrotyptd  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &•  Co. 
Boston,    U.  S.  A 


7)5 

?/* 


TO 


WHO   GAVE   ME 

THE  LOVE  OF  TRAVEL 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  GRATEFULLY 

DEDICATED 

BY  THEIR  NOMADIC 

DAUGHTER. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FAGB 

I.    FIRST  IMPRESSIONS i 

II.    THE  CHERRY-BLOSSOM  SEASON      ...  26 

III.  SIGHTSEEING 48 

IV.  AN  OVERLAND  JOURNEY 69 

V.    A  NATIONAL  RITE 92 

VI.    ALONE  IN  NIKKO in 

VII.    SENDAI,  MATSUSHIMA,  AND  IKAO  .        .        .134 

VIII.    AN  INLAND  TRIP     .                                        .  155 

IX.    SIGHTSEEING 179 

X.    THE   BUDDHIST  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  JUDO 

SCHOOL 200 

XI.    THE  RUSSIAN  MISSION  AND  THE  RED  CROSS 

HOSPITAL 218 

XII.    THE  GREAT  JAPANESE  INDUSTRIES  AND  THE 

STOCK  MARKET 234 

XIII.    WOMAN'S  EDUCATION  IN  JAPAN     .        .        .  260 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACK 

THE  LITTLE  MOTHERS  OF  JAPAN        .        .       Frontispiece 
THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  RIDE  IN  A  RIKSHA  —  A  RIKSHA 

STAND 2 

YOUTHFUL  STREET  ACROBATS     12 

THE  THEATRE  IN  YOKOHAMA 20 

THE  THEATRE  IN  CHERRY-BLOSSOM  SEASON    .        .  34 

THE  CAGED  GIRLS  OF  THE  YOSHIWARA     ...  38 

THE  PROCESSION  OF  PROSTITUTES     ....  45 

A  MOST  DISTINGUISHED  WRESTLER  OF  JAPAN  .        .  62 
THE  PRELUDE  TO  A  WRESTLING  BOUT      .        .        .64 

A  WRESTLER  IN  His  STATE  APRON  ....  68 

IN  THE  HEART  OF  OLD  JAPAN 80 

SNAP  SHOTS  OF  THE  PROCESSION  —  BANNER  BEARERS  99 

CARVED  MONKEYS  ON  THE  SACRED  STABLE  AT  NIKKO  100 
SNAP    SHOTS   OF  THE    PROCESSION  —  THE    SACRED 

SHRINE — SPEARMEN 102 

THE  APPROACH  OF  THE  SACRED  SHRINES.        .        .  104 

CLOG -SHOP,  NIKKO 113 

PRIESTS  BEFORE  THE  TEMPLE  AT  NIKKO  .        .        .126 
DWARF  WAITER  AT  THE  HOTEL  NIKKO,  A  FAVOUR- 
ITE WITH  ALL 128 

TEMPLE  OF  THE  DANCING  PRIESTESS  AT  NIKKO      .  132 

THE  KINDLY  SERVANTS  OF  THE  KINDAYU  HOTEL    .  146 

A  TYPICAL  TEA-HOUSE 159 

KUSATSU 166 

SNAP  SHOTS  OF  THE  BATHS  OF  KUSATSU          .        .  168 

GEISHA  FAN  DRILL 195 


List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 

THE  FAMED  BUDDHA  OF  KAMAKURA         .        .        .  200 

PROFESSOR  KANO 210 

RED  CROSS  HOSPITAL  BUILDINGS       ....  226 

IN  THE  TEA  FIELDS 234 

IN  THE  RICE  FIELDS 250 

WRITING  -  LESSON  IN  A  PRIVATE  SCHOOL  FOR  GIRLS  261 

PRESIDENT  NARUSE 270 

MR.  DOGURA 279 

BENEFACTORS  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  :   MR.  AND  MRS. 

MITSUI,  MME.  HIRO-OKA,  AND  MR.  MORIMURA  280 


A  Woman  Alone 

in  the  Heart  of  Japan 

CHAPTER  I 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 
A  Fascinating  Port  of  Entry 

IT  pays  to  visit  the  Flowery  Kingdom,  even 
though  one  becomes  acquainted  with  the  sea- 
port towns  only.  Yokohama,  for  example, 
is  most  interesting,  and  is  full  of  piquant  fas- 
cination. Though  it  is  tinctured  with  foreign 
life,  there  is  still  much  that  is  native.  The 
embroidery  shops  of  Honchodori;  the  curio 
stores  of  Bentendori;  the  clean,  though 
crowded,  homes  of  Motomachi;  the  majestic 
glimpse  of  sacred  Fuji,  from  the  top  of  the 
hundred  steps;  the  blind  shampooer  sound- 
ing his  note  on  the  windy  Bluff;  the  wee 
woman  toddling  along  with  her  baby  on  her 
back;  the  gay-gowned  children  rollicking  by 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  door;  the  multitudinous  scenes  of  Theatre 
Street  by  night;  yea,  even  our  fated  sisters  of 
the  Nectarine,  are  but  hints  of  the  many  sights 
and  sounds  which  will  amaze,  amuse,  appal, 
at  this  open  door  of  Japan. 

The  customs  inspection  is  strict,  but  po- 
lite. Bows  and  smiles  prevailed  with  the 
bland  little  man  who  inquired  anxiously  about 
the  typewriter,  whether  it  was  for  sale  or  for 
use.  He  was  rather  stiff,  too,  about  the  shiny 
new  bicycle  which  reposed  in  its  crate;  but 
the  kodak  lay  snuggled  among  innocent 
wares,  and  escaped  unnoticed.  The  man  had 
no  interest  in  personal  finery  and  only  wanted 
to  hold  up  things  mercantile. 

A  First  Riksha  Ride 

Emerged  from  the  shadow  of  inspection, 
the  novice  must  make  acquaintance  with  the 
riksha,  that  native  vehicle,  resembling  a 
cradle  with  the  hood  raised,  hung  on  tender 
shafts  which  end  in  boat-hooks.  This  cross 
between  chariot  and  coffin  shakes  and  trembles 
as  one  mounts,  and  I  wondered  how  far  this 
human  mite,  in  blue  sleeves  and  bare  legs, 
with  inverted  dish-pan  on  his  head,  could 
carry  me.  He  picked  up  the  boat-hooks  like 

2 


THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST  RIDE  IN  A  RIKSHA  * 


A    RIKSHA    STAND 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

feathers,  and  trundled  me  away,  full  of  the 
zest  of  a  first  experience.  In  the  first  rik  ride 
one  feels  like  an  inspired  idiot  on  stilts.  The 
riksha  grin  of  the  novice  is  a  worthy  rival  of 
the  bicycle  stare.  I  was  lost  in  my  own  amuse- 
ment, and  the  grin  stretched  from  ear  to  ear, 
absorbing  every  facial  feature  in  a  cavernous, 
jolting  laugh.  This  was  followed  by  terror, 
as  I  listened  to  the  creaking,  twisting  my 
spinal  column  for  a  side-glimpse,  and  re- 
calling the  history  of  the  one-horse  shay.  The 
third  stage  was  a  struggle  for  dignity  and 
calm  composure,  and  I  tried  to  look  as  if  to 
the  manor  born.  Lastly,  I  acquired  non- 
chalant indifference,  poking  my  head  in  the 
hood  and  my  feet  in  the  floor.  In  bad 
weather  this  little  hearse  seems  an  invention 
of  the  evil  one,  and  frail  woman  wipes  the 
roof  with  her  plumes,  and  submits  to  a 
vapour-bath  among  the  wraps.  A  sealed 
tomb  would  give  up  its  secrets  if  dropped 
inside  this  Oriental  sweat-box. 

"  Rattle  his  bones  over  the  stones, 
Here  goes  a  pauper  whom  nobody  owns," 

I  quoted,  as  the  human  dog  bore  away,  with 
his  burden  practically  on  his  back  and  under 

3 


A   Woman  Alone 

his  arms.  He  was  a  study  in  legs,  a  chapter 
in  anatomy.  Great  bunches  of  muscles  rolled 
up  in  huge  welts  to  the  knees  of  this  typical 
"  Pullman  "  of  Japan,  more  primitive  than 
we  turn  out  from  the  car-shops.  He  pattered 
across  bridges,  shied  around  corners,  dodged 
a  stall  and  a  baby,  all  but  ground  off  the  axle 
of  a  passing  rik,  but  young  and  old  turned 
out  for  rikky,  as  he  had  the  right  of  way. 
He  dashed  recklessly  around  the  curves;  but, 
when  about  to  collide,  he  gave  a  twist  of  the 
wrist  which  slung  the  coach  a  hair's  breadth, 
and  disaster  was  averted. 

So  he  threaded  a  sure  path  among  tortu- 
ous lanes,  till,  at  the  base  of  the  Bluff,  he  took 
a  pushman,  and,  with  a  series  of  groans  and  a 
shower  of  moans,  I  was  borne  zigzag,  criss- 
cross up  the  towering  hill  where  five  sen  paid 
off  the  pushman. 

Below  me  lay  the  tinder-box  village  of  Jap- 
town,  its  huts  thick  as  thieves ;  the  foreign  set- 
tlement in  towering  dignity;  and,  beyond,  the 
broad  blue  sea,  with  its  forest  of  stately  ships. 
Pullman  dropped  me  with  a  thud,  boat-hooks 
stabbed  the  earth,  and  I  reeled  forward  in 
pained  surprise.  By  the  sweat  of  his  brow 
and  the  strain  of  his  legs  rikky  had  earned 
his  tariff.  He  mopped  his  steamy  face  with 

4 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

a  grimy  muffler,  salaamed  to  earth  in  return 
for  his  cash,  picked  up  his  shafts  and  pattered 
to  his  stand,  to  crouch  with  the  coolies,  and 
while  away  time  in  a  smoke  till  another 
princely  foreigner  enriched  him  with  a 
fare. 

Only  the  double  rik  is  sociable,  and  this  is 
a  cradle  spacious  enough  for  Lilliputian  Japs, 
but  two  average  Americans  feel  that  tinned 
sardines  are  to  be  envied,  and  the  tight  squeeze 
and  close  shave  might  well  result  in  nerve 
paralysis.  Ordinary  machines  run  single  file, 
and  to  crane  one's  neck  in  conversation  is  a 
strain  which  only  a  hero  could  endure.  When 
rikky  is  stocked  with  garlic  and  absinthe,  he 
makes  the  air  talk.  He  pegs  on  persistently, 
and  his  cords  strain  tensely,  and  with  every 
jolt  comes  the  thin  cry,  struck  off  in  two  sharp 
notes,  "  hey-ho." 

Earthquakes 

Even  the  ways  of  the  foreign  home  are 
novel.  A  locked  door  is  dangerous,  for,  if 
the  earthquake-ridden  land  is  going  to  shake 
with  ague  and  have  a  half-dozen  fits  in  the 
night,  a  twisted  key  would  embarrass  a  sudden 
flight.  Every  one  is  warned  to  stand  on  the 

5 


A  IV oman  Alone 

threshold  when  the  shakes  come,  or,  if  door- 
ways give  out,  one  should  leap  to  the  window- 
sill.  My  first  experience  of  that  ominous 
thrill,  which  I  learned  to  know  and  to  fear, 
came  in  the  silences  of  the  night.  The  bed 
rocked,  the  house  shook,  the  earth  staggered. 
Wise  plans  were  forgotten  in  the  midst  of 
dread  reality,  and  I  lay  cowering  in  feeble- 
ness, sweating  out  the  terror  inspired  by  the 
mysterious  force  which  mocks  at  man's  frailty. 
Many  a  time  did  the  swaying  break  my  slum- 
ber, and  menace  the  peace  of  the  kingdom, 
and  each  time,  with  a  heavy  heart  thump,  I 
wondered  if  the  end  had  come.  It  is  the  land 
of  earthquakes,  and  they  get  on  the  nerves, 
so  that  one  never  grows  used  to  them.  Deli- 
cate instruments  prove  that  there  are  often 
many  quakes  in  a  single  day,  though  the 
tremor  may  be  so  slight  that  one  does  not 
perceive  it. 

Community  Baths 

The  natives  are  scrupulously  clean,  and 
have  their  public  baths  on  the  main  streets, 
where  the  vats  are  sunk  in  the  floor,  and  the 
bathers  indulge  in  a  long  soak  and  a  social 
visit,  after  they  have  spluttered  and  splashed 

6 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

and  soaped  from  the  little  wooden  wash-tubs 
which  hold  perhaps  a  gallon.  As  the  doors 
slide  back  in  their  grooves,  these  community 
baths  are  often  open  to  the  view  of  the  passer, 
and  many  an  Adam  and  Eve,  sans  bathing- 
suits,  are  seen  floundering  like  seals  in  a 
tank. 

Because  this  nude  simplicity  was  known  to 
shock  the  foreigner,  the  emperor  demanded 
that  the  sexes  should  bathe  separately,  and 
hence  one  often  sees  a  bamboo  rod  stretched 
across  the  bath-house  floor,  forming  the  line 
of  demarcation.  Thus  the  fiat  is  obeyed,  and 
the  separation  of  the  sexes  is  maintained. 

Modesty  is  a  comparative  term,  and  stand- 
ards vary.  Clothes,  too,  are  a  matter  of  con- 
ventionality, an  accretion  of  civilization.  An 
American,  visiting  a  Japanese  merchant,  de- 
layed his  bath  till  the  others  had  retired.  He 
then  went  modestly  and  alone,  soaped  and 
lathered  from  the  wooden  tub,  rinsed  in 
clear  water,  and  entered  the  large  vat  for  a 
peaceful  soak,  when,  shades  of  infant  mod- 
esty! a  tiny  Eve,  simply  clad,  —  in  a  placid 
smile,  —  intruded  on  his  solitude  and  he  was 
forced  to  beat  a  hasty  and  confused  retreat 
to  ruminate  later  on  the  queer  customs  of  the 
country. 

7 


A   Woman  Alone 
Graceful  Manners 

At  every  turn  the  comparatively  brusque 
foreigner  has  an  object-lesson  in  good  man- 
ners, for  those  of  the  Japanese  are  graceful  and 
enticing,  even  though  they  mean  nothing,  or 
are  a  cloak  for  trickery.  O  Tey  San  bowed 
low  and  shuffled  with  extra  speed  on  being 
called  "  the  honourable  miss."  Toward  day- 
break she  shook  me  up  for  tea  and  after  sun- 
rise she  shuffled  in  again  to  open  up  the  day- 
light. She  giggled  and  grinned,  cackled  and 
chattered,  and  said  "  velly,  velly  solly,"  when 
it  rained,  as  if  she  felt  personally  responsible 
for  the  weather.  If  I  did  not  rise  in  time, 
she  toddled  back  with  the  anxious  query, 
"  No  getty  uppy?  Sleepy?  "  and  nearly  split 
her  tiny  throat  in  a  merry  cascade  of  cackles, 
in  recognition  of  what  she  considered  the 
greatest  joke  on  earth. 

Nor  was  there  peace  for  one  who  indulged 
in  such  irregularity.  Later  the  door  opened, 
and  the  little  majordomo,  a  human  spin- 
ning-top, with  immortal  smile,  huge  head, 
and  tapering  legs,  dropped  in  to  see  the 
freak  who  was  too  sleepy  to  eat.  Evidently 
such  specimens  were  rare,  for  he  cried  dra- 
matically, "  Tane  meenit  pas  nine;  no  blekfas, 

8 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

make  fire,"  and  pushed  in  an  ancestor  who 
tottered  around  on  all  fours  like  a  dusky 
chimpanzee  and  struck  a  spark  in  the  icy 
air. 

Japanese  children  are  expected  to  obey, 
and  Spinning  Top  crowned  his  forty  odd 
years  with  a  deluge  of  tears,  when  his  papa 
ordered  him  to  marry.  He  defied  paternal 
authority,  and  served  our  numerical  meals  in 
single  blessedness. 

The  menu  was  called  in  numbers,  since  the 
servants  could  follow  "  2-5-7 "  when  they 
could  never  understand  u  roast,  carrots,  pud- 
ding." 

Lack  of  Sanitation 

Those  things  which  grow  on  the  ground 
are  forbidden  fruits  and  are  always  tabooed 
by  the  croaker,  unless  cooked  or  peeled. 
Luscious  berries  and  tempting  salads  are 
dangerous  from  lack  of  drainage,  for,  as 
there  is  no  sewage  system,  the  little  farms 
are  enriched  by  human  refuse.  All  is  not 
skittles  and  beer  in  the  land  of  the  cherry 
blossom.  In  the  late  afternoon  the  open 
green  is  beautiful  beyond  the  huddled  town. 
It  is  a  wondrous  picture  of  sky  and  land, 
thatched  roofs  and  sacred  Fuji,  towering 

9 


A  Woman  Alone 

in  majestic  glory,  but  the  air  is  defiled  by 
noisome  odours,  which  stalk  abroad  like  grim 
pestilence.  Coolies  tramp  about  with  yoke 
and  buckets  dangling  from  their  shoulders. 
The  green  fields  will  be  richer  for  the  fer- 
tilizing agent  which  they  scatter,  but  the 
beauty  all  about  is  tainted  by  the  nauseous 
air,  and  garden  fruits  are  no  temptation. 

Street  Sights  and  Sounds 

The  essentials  are  dear  in  Japan.  The 
tourist  always  pays  the  piper.  Only  in  his 
laundry  bill  can  he  delight,  for  it  matters 
not  whether  the  item  be  a  dainty  kerchief  or 
an  elaborate  gown,  a  boiled  shirt  or  a  ruffled 
skirt,  two  American  cents  will  pay  for  it. 
Needless  baubles  may  be  numbered  among 
things  cheap.  The  people  are  all  great 
lovers  of  nature,  and  the  humblest  have  ar- 
tistic taste.  The  flower  vender  yokes  his 
garden  across  his  neck  or  squats  at  a  cor- 
ner with  fragrant  hyacinths  at  five  cents 
a  plant.  Gay  pansies  and  modest  primroses 
are  much  cheaper,  and  a  pair  of  goldfish 
with  rough-blown  globe  costs  but  two  cents. 
Garden  and  menagerie  grow  up  around  the 
tempted  tourist.  Canaries,  suspected  of  being 

10 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

painted  sparrows  but  looking  like  pure  gold, 
are  warranted  to  sing  at  twenty  cents  a  throat. 
The  candy  man  draws  like  a  lodestone.  His 
brown  sugar  and  water  sputter  on  the  coals. 
The  mass  boils  and  evaporates  and  thickens 
to  a  little  pat,  which  is  dumped  for  an  air- 
ing and  is  then  all  ready  for  use.  Here  is 
maple-sugar,  also,  in  a  solid  mass,  and  a  tiny 
child  with  a  snubby  nose  and  hair  gathered 
in  a  war-lock,  with  dirty  hands  and  a  penny, 
runs  to  the  booth,  her  face  aglow  with  the 
joy  that  beams  through  the  grime.  With 
a  carpenter's  plane  the  old  man  scrapes  the 
big  cake  and  gathers  the  sweet  shavings 
into  a  little  wad.  He  cleans  the  last  crumb 
from  his  plane,  pats  and  squeezes  the  lump 
between  his  dirty  thumb  and  ringer,  and 
then  stabs  it  on  a  reed,  which  he  passes  to 
the  enraptured  child,  as  he  pockets  the  penny. 
The  gingerbread  man  pours  batter  into  little 
moulds  of  Buddha  and  cooks  it  to  a  turn. 
It  looked  so  good,  it  smelled  so  good,  I 
thought  of  grandma  and  was  caught.  To 
eat  a  brown  god  with  a  muddy  inside  was 
not  the  delight  I  had  hoped,  and  one  ter- 
rible taste  was  enough,  while  the  gingerbread 
god  went  spinning  in  the  gutter,  and  relig- 
ious dyspepsia  was  allayed  by  hot  water. 

1 1 


A  Woman  Alone 

Homes  breed  children,  and  in  Japan  they 
mature  so  young  that  one  often  questions 
to  which  of  three  generations  a  mite  be- 
longs. Wee  girls  of  five  years  bear  the 
burden  of  a  younger  baby  and  play  hop- 
scotch in  the  street  with  the  infant  strapped 
on  the  back.  Baby's  head  dangles  all  ways 
and  bobs  about  lumpily  in  the  sun.  He  ap- 
peals for  mercy,  but  he  is  only  a  pack  of 
flesh,  strapped  on  where  he  will  make  the 
least  trouble,  and. he  gets  little  attention  for 
the  noise  he  makes.  But  the  Japanese  love 
their  children  and  are  uniformly  kind  to 
them.  Almost  never  does  one  see  a  baby 
struck.  Neglect  and  ignorance,  not  wilful 
cruelty,  are  the  distress  of  the  little  ones. 

Dirt  and  glare  soon  injure  the  eyes,  and 
one  encounters  the  blind  everywhere.  They 
march  like  stately  phantoms,  fearless  of 
danger,  swinging  their  graceful  robes  and 
feeling  their  way  with  long  sticks.  Rikky 
calls  a  sharp  "  hey-ho,"  and  they  are  quick 
to  hear.  If  confused  in  the  locality,  the  blind 
man  calmly  plants  himself  midway,  and 
merciful  rikky  makes  a  detour.  Darkness 
and  daylight  are  alike  to  him,  but  in  the 
dead  of  night,  when  traffic  ceases,  the  blind 
masseur  is  everywhere,  threading  his  way 

12 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

through  the  thick  of  Japtown  far  into 
the  Settlement  and  on  the  heights  of  the 
windy  Bluff,  in  and  out  of  the  twisting  al- 
leys. Two  high  notes  of  his  reed,  weird 
and  melancholy,  far  and  near,  sing  through 
the  darkness  as  he  gropes  his  way,  humbly 
seeking  honest  work,  this  unfortunate,  who 
in  many  a  land  would  be  a  beggar.  For  a 
few  sen  he  will  knead  and  pound  and  rub 
the  invalid,  and  a  livelihood  is  assured. 

Not  less  mystic,  in  the  night,  is  the  sound 
of  the  watchman  on  his  beat.  He  is  hired 
by  the  residents  of  his  locality,  and  like  a 
grim  spectre  he  makes  his  round.  His 
lantern  silhouettes  him,  and  his  long  pole 
strikes  the  stones,  and  his  rings  of  brass  shake 
out  their  metal  cry.  He  prowls  behind  the 
match-box  shanties,  and  his  patrons  know  they 
are  secure. 

Theatre  Street,  where  bright  lanterns  hang, 
is  a  scene  of  innocent  delight,  with  long 
banners  of  black  chirography  which  ad- 
vertise the  shows.  Smiling  and  contented, 
the  crowd  struggles  on,  and  the  stranger  sees 
the  Japs  as  they  march.  Stalls  of  food, 
flowers,  and  crockery  stretch  far  into  the 
street;  sweet  potatoes,  steaming  from  the 
boiler,  are  skinned  for  the  buyer;  snailsi  un- 

13 


A  Woman  Alone 

savoury  rice,  raw  fish  on  spikes,  are  revealed 
by  the  flickering  torch.  Huge  poppers  of 
beans  suggest  pop-corn.  There  are  forests 
of  miniature  trees,  trained  to  every  device 
of  Japanese  art.  Three  cents  will  buy  a 
family  of  crockery  babies  stretched  on  their 
stomachs  and  raising  their  bald  heads  to 
show  a  single  forelock,  ready  for  scalping. 
In  the  shooting-gallery,  the  little  lady  bends 
low  and  presents  a  gun  before  we  know  that 
we  are  bent  on  war.  The  rubber  pellet 
never  hits  the  puppet,  but  another  rifle 
splits  a  distant  feather.  On  departure,  the 
little  lady  rewards  the  visitor  with  a  candy 
fish  with  red  head  and  black  eye,  which  will 
never  be  edible,  but  will  serve  as  a  souvenir 
till  the  sugar  melts. 

Against  a  fence  the  palmist  spreads  a 
table  of  mysterious  literature  and  diagrams 
of  stiff,  unnatural  hands.  The  sleeves  of 
his  long  kimono  are  full  of  magic,  and,  be- 
hind his  horn  glasses,  he  looks  the  patriarchal 
theologian.  Being  ready  for  experiences, 
the  friend  says  "  hands  down,"  and  there  fol- 
lows a  stentorian  harangue  as  he  draws  a 
wand  through  the  crevices  and  expounds 
with  solemn  gravity.  There  are  queer  fea- 
tures in  this  hand's  history  and  the  old  chap 

14 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

turns  from  grave  to  gay.  The  crowd  shrieks 
with  mirth,  while  the  victim  feels  very  like 
a  fool.  It  takes  little  to  make  the  native 
laugh,  but  it  would  be  less  embarrassing  to 
know  what  is  being  said.  As  the  people 
chuckle  and  nudge  and  grow  hysterical,  we 
are  evidently  the  butt  of  wild  jokes.  The 
philosopher  pokes  his  stick  between  the  fin- 
gers, to  indicate  that  the  victim  will  have 
much  money,  which  will  always  trickle  away. 
This  gives  the  climax  of  mirth  to  the  crowds, 
which  roar  with  delight  as  the  old  man  winds 
up  his  story  and  clicks  his  coin.  He  has 
them  in  good  humour,  and  anxious  to  know 
their  fate,  as  we  leave  him  and  saunter  across 
to  the  auction,  and  the  crowd  again  swings 
our  way  and  watches  for  our  bids  as  we  han- 
dle the  wares.  The  vender  is  young  and  gay 
and  graceful,  and  he  gains  courage  with  this 
sudden  rally.  He  flings  the  white  goods  on 
the  air,  and  reaches  them  out  for  us  to  sample. 
Frantically  he  throws  his  arms  about  in  dra- 
matic despair,  in  response  to  low  bids.  He 
is  a  study  in  fleeting  emotions  as  he  dashes 
off  scathing  comment  and  flings  merry 
jokes. 


A  Woman  Alone 
The  Busy  Bazaars 

In  the  bazaars  one  is  lost  in  a  Grecian 
border  of  roofed  stalls  with  their  offerings 
of  pipes,  purses,  prints,  pictures,  fancy  tooth- 
picks, box  puzzles,  and  every  ingenious  kick- 
shaw. A  rickety  flight  leads  up-stairs  to  a 
similar  enigma  of  stalls,  and  we  follow  the 
narrow  alleys  where  the  tide  of  life  is  surging. 
Suddenly  there  comes  a  wild  stampede.  Every 
man  bolts  through  the  passage.  The  clatter  of 
clogs  makes  pandemonium.  At  the  exit  we 
find  that  a  distant  tinder  shanty  is  in  flames, 
and  a  fire  is  always  interesting  when  there 
is  no  hope  for  the  building  and  effort  centres 
on  the  wares  in  the  neighbouring  houses. 

The  busy  thoroughfares  are  packed  with 
hives,  where  humanity  asks  little  space.  At 
late  night  the  fitful  torch  and  murky  lamp 
still  burn.  Babies  tumble  about,  and  the 
family  reads  the  news,  foots  up  sales,  mends, 
tinkers,  sews,  and  makes  the  wooden  clogs 
which  sound  "  clamp  clomp,"  with  two  dis- 
tinct notes  of  a  high  and  low  key,  like  the 
beat  of  a  coming  army.  The  inmates  kneel 
on  the  mats  at  meal-time,  while  the  men 
manage  the  chop-sticks  and  the  women  an- 
ticipate each  wish  of  the  lord  and  master. 

16 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

They  crouch  around  the  brass  hebachi,  that 
melancholy  little  kettle  of  ashes  where  flick- 
ering charcoal  warms  the  outspread  fingers. 
Later,  they  bring  in  the  wares  and  draw  the 
sliding  wall  of  the  little  box  which  serves 
as  home  and  store.  One  step  up,  they  draw 
another  panel,  set  with  little  panes  of  paper, 
and  they  spread  rugs  on  the  spotless  matting, 
and  the  family  goes  fast  asleep  resting  on 
little  wooden  pillows  which  would  give  us 
cramps  for  a  week.  Such  is  the  life  of  the 
merchant,  the  average,  well-to-do  middle 
class.  These  are  the  midgets  whose  every 
phase  of  life  is  Lilliputian.  Meagre  and 
bare  as  it  looks,  it  is  the  making  of  the  brave 
soldier  on  the  battle-field. 

The  little  people  of  bows  and  smiles  see 
no  reason  for  our  aggressive  speech,  push- 
ing ways,  abrupt  manners.  They  have  time 
to  be  polite.  To  them  life  means  more 
leisure  and  less  money.  They  linger  long 
over  a  sale,  and  seem  to  care  little  if  they 
make  one.  They  love  their  treasures  and 
know  their  worth,  and  the  best  are  hidden 
away.  The  commoner  wares  are  exposed, 
and  the  piece  de  resistance  is  trotted  out  only 
when  the  merchant  sees  that  he  has  an  ap- 
preciative customer.  If  we  haggle  below 

17 


A  Woman  Alone 

his  dignity,  he  bows  low,  smiles  serenely, 
says  a  gentle  "  Thank  you,"  and  replaces 
the  piece  on  the  shelf. 

The  Kindly  Natives 

If  we  are  but  a  little  kind  to  them  they 
are  supremely  kind  to  us.  One  day  in  the 
train  a  wee  creature  cuddled  up  on  her 
knees  to  me  and  began  a  voluble  output 
of  the  lingo.  I  nodded  and  grinned  like  an 
idiot,  but  her  astonished  gaze  told  me  I  was 
unsatisfactory.  At  last  she  ventured,  "  Air 
you  a  chreeschin?  Me  too,  me  chreeschin." 
This  is  the  constant  query  of  the  native,  and, 
though  I  had  started  out  with  a  confident 
reply,  constant  hammering  of  the  question 
had  brought  doubts  as  to  my  surety,  and  in 
despair  I  sometimes  startled  the  native  with 
the  answer,  "  No,  I  am  an  American." 

This  little  lady  fished  in  the  depths  of  her 
cavernous  sleeves,  and  intuitively  I  clapped 
my  hand  on  my  pocket.  Why  do  we  dis- 
trust the  very  ones  who  would  befriend 
us?  Do  we  accuse  ourselves  in  suspecting 
others?  Many  times  have  I  realized  the 
meanness  of  my  doubts.  She  was  no  more 
a  robber  than  I  was.  We  were  separated 

18 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

in  the  push  at  the  station,  but  the  conductor 
rushed  up  with  some  article  in  his  hand. 
"  It  is  not  mine.  It  belongs  to  the  lady," 
I  said.  He  returned  in  a  moment  and  re- 
marked, "  For  you.  She  say  me  geef  you." 
The  dear  little  lady  had  sent  a  souvenir  of 
her  friendship,  a  roll  of  gaudy  circus  figures 
whose  mysticism  I  could  not  fathom,  but  her 
kind  intent  was  legible  in  the  heart  language 
of  the  world. 

The  Theatre 

The  theatre  is  a  continuous  vaudeville, 
the  delight  of  the  native,  where  two-cent, 
three-cent,  and  five-cent  shows  keep  the 
people  in  wild  guffaws  over  the  most  child- 
ish nonsense.  Clogs  by  the  hundred  rest 
at  the  door,  and  the  patron  is  checked  with 
a  billet  of  wood  in  exchange  for  his  shoes. 
The  cheapest  places  are  nearest  the  stage, 
and  the  high-priced  people  are  banked  in 
the  rear,  while  the  natives  squat  on  mats  in 
front.  Flags  and  banners,  dragons  and  gob- 
lins, array  the  walls.  A  dreary  brass  band 
beats  out  a  measure.  On  the  stage,  the 
director  and  manager,  rolled  in  one,  a 
weird  dwarf  in  green  baggy  breeches,  with 

19 


A  Woman  Alone 

billiard-ball  pate,  rings  a  dinner-bell,  and  with 
Sunday-school  voice  tells  the  startling  thing 
that  shall  follow.  Stage  demeanour  is  stiff 
and  tragic.  Fascinated  infants  toddle  to  the 
stage,  till  an  extra  wild  lunge  of  swords 
drives  them,  fearful,  back  to  their  mothers. 
The  Japanese  are  famed  fencers,  jugglers, 
acrobats;  the  clowns  are  done  out  in  war- 
paint and  whitewash,  and  are  a  few  grades 
sillier  than  at  home,  but  their  simplest  antics 
provoke  side-splitting  mirth.  One  clumsy 
creature  repeatedly  tumbles  off  backward 
into  the  pit,  and  a  string  of  clogs  is  revealed 
tied  to  his  waist  This  is  the  acme  of  the 
comical  to  the  simple  people.  The  tight- 
rope walker  performs  his  daring  stunts  of 
dressing,  dancing  in  clogs,  and  catching  trifles 
as  he  sways  in  mid-air.  Baby  clowns  and 
girls  of  six  years  run  a  race  on  revolving 
globes  as  their  tiny  feet  patter  nimbly  to  keep 
the  balance.  One  child,  frightfully  scared, 
is  tossed  to  and  fro,  to  alight  on  an  extended 
arm,  and  mount  a  living  pyramid,  and  pivot 
high  on  a  slippery  head.  A  little  lad  shins 
up  a  bamboo-rod,  poised  on  the  shoulder  of 
a  native.  He  swings  and  gyrates  and  per- 
forms his  antics  at  the  top.  The  crowd 
watches  breathless,  as  the  rod  swings  and 

20 


THE    THEATRE    IN    YOKOHAMA 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

bends.  Four  coolies  wait  below,  to  catch  the 
child  if  he  falls.  He  slides  half-way,  then 
remounts,  to  pivot  on  his  back,  as  he  spreads 
in  all  directions,  till  he  seems  impaled.  He 
catches  a  loop  and  swings  to  either  side  and 
revolves.  There  is  more  pain  than  pleasure 
to  strained  nerves  in  watching  him,  and  one 
wishes  that  children  were  not  so  cheap  or  so 
plenty  in  the  Orient 

Little  Katie  of  the  Nectarine 

One  would  have  no  adequate  notion  of 
Japan  without  visiting  the  quarter  set  apart 
in  the  great  cities  for  the  slave-girls  of  the 
nation,  and,  with  every  ship  that  comes  to 
port,  there  is  a  rapid  trundling  of  the  rikshas 
toward  the  famous  Nectarine.  Most  men  and 
many  women,  for  reason  of  trade  or  curiosity, 
hunt  out  this  strange  haunt  of  vice.  Beyond 
the  pale  of  her  private  home,  within  this  pub- 
lic den,  pretty  little  Katie,  known  rather  for 
her  gentle  beauty  and  her  winsome  ways  than 
for  her  evil  life,  drew  upon  my  tender  love. 
She  looked  so  sweet  and  innocent  that  one 
quite  forgot  she  was  a  hardened  little  sinner, 
this  inmate  of  the  neat  white  house  with 
green  blinds,  in  a  remote  corner,  catering 

21 


A   Woman  Alone 

especially  to  foreign  trade.  If  the  measure 
of  sin  depends  on  the  standards  of  the  coun- 
try, then  Katie  must  not  be  despised.  The 
novice  in  the  Orient  is  often  "  dropped  down 
gently "  by  experienced  friends,  and  I  was 
cajoled  with  the  notion  of  seeing  a  cafe  chan- 
tant,  and  dainty  Katie  met  me  and  beguiled 
me  before  I  guessed  my  whereabouts.  She 
was  so  coy  and  artless,  this  child  of  ill-fame, 
that  the  term  seemed  cruel  when  coupled 
with  the  little  maid,  who  suggested  a  bit  of 
gay  china.  Her  unblushing  frankness  had 
the  naivete  of  innocence.  She  horrified  us 
with  honest  talk,  but  she  seemed  to  find  no 
evil  in  her  life.  She  was  decidedly  a  child 
of  nature,  and  her  life  was  part  of  herself. 
She  was  only  a  little  one,  hardly  sixteen,  who 
regretted  not  her  past,  recked  not  of  the  fu- 
ture, and  knew  no  shame  for  the  present.  She 
supplied  a  market  demand.  Let  the  shame 
rest  elsewhere.  She  showed  fondness  for  the 
white  ladies  who  petted  her,  and  she  toddled 
about  in  rainbow  robe,  with  gay  obi,  and  oily 
topknot  sprinkled  with  gewgaws.  She  cud- 
dled down  affectionately  beside  us,  and  chat- 
tered in  her  broken  patois.  She  rolled  out 
ripples  of  laughter,  that  fell  like  a  jolly  cas- 
cade, when  we  paid  her  pretty  compliments. 

22 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

The  matron,  tawny  and  wrinkled  but  al- 
ways polite,  known  through  all  the  land  as 
"  Mother  Jesus,"  rilled  little  glasses  with  a 
tempting  drink.  The  newcomer  grew  fear- 
ful. "  Is  it  a  put-up  job?  Will  they  drug 
us  and  do  us  up?"  But  there  is  no  trickery 
in  well-regulated  Japan.  Methods  and  man- 
agement are  open  as  the  day,  as  transparent 
as  little  Katie's  heart. 

There  came  a  summons  for  the  girls,  and 
she  toddled  away,  to  join  the  troop  of  airy 
midgets  who  thronged  for  inspection.  "  Many 
are  called,  but  few  are  chosen,"  and  Katie 
returned  with  a  sunny  smile.  When  asked 
how  she  learned  her  pretty  English,  her 
answer  came  with  terrible  truth,  and  im- 
pressed the  moral  nightmare  of  her  life.  "  Ze 
gentlemen,  zey  teach  me  Engleesch."  The 
frank  answer  startled  and  saddened  the  in- 
quisitor. 

I  strolled  to  the  hall,  and  looked  off  to  the 
courtyard  of  flowers.  A  dozen  little  sisters 
threw  wide  their  doors  and  urged  me  to  enter. 
I  must  inspect  their  belongings  and  sit  cosily 
with  them  on  the  mats.  All  were  sweet  and 
gracious,  but  no  one  was  so  pretty  as  wee 
Katie.  I  wondered  what  spirit  moved  them. 
Was  it  the  native  instinct  of  politeness,  or  was 

23 


A  Woman  Alone 

there  deep  in  the  heart's  recess  a  longing  to 
sit  with  one  of  their  great  sisterhood  whose 
life  was  altogether  different?  They  did  not 
show  that  they  knew  any  difference. 

Segregated  children  of  the  Nectarine,  set 
apart  in  their  little  tainted  world,  cut  off 
like  moral  lepers  from  the  larger  and  the 
better  life,  generally  the  victims  of  the  world 
which  comes  to  them!  Probably  they  never 
question  the  solution  of  life's  great  problem. 
There  are  no  other  women  so  dainty  and 
pretty,  so  kind  and  gentle,  so  polite  and  gra- 
cious, so  faithful  and  submissive,  so  winning 
in  all  their  ways.  Has  their  life  no  richer 
meaning  than  this  daily  round  of  sin?  Does 
the  present  bring  content?  Or  is  there  in  every 
girl's  heart  a  womanly  yearning  for  a  better 
fate?  Are  they  all  irresponsible,  light- 
hearted  children,  whose  merry  laugh  rings 
true  to  pleasure?  I  rubbed  my  eyes  in  bewil- 
derment, as  I  recalled  the  strange  experience. 
It  was  not  curious  slumming  in  a  big  foreign 
town;  for  the  new  vision  of  life  had  awa- 
kened a  great  vexed  question,  and  had  wrung 
my  heart  with  pity  for  a  sisterhood  that  knew 
not  its  own  needs.  A  wail  arises  for  depraved 
humanity.  Overwhelmed  by  the  pathos,  one 
feels  powerless  to  help. 

24 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Winsome  little  Katie  has  been  bought,  and 
has  left  the  Nectarine.  A  white  man  paid 
the  price.  She  will  ever  be  a  living  picture 
on  my  mind.  May  the  great  All-Father  re- 
member that  she  is  His  child,  and  enfold  her 
in  His  mantle  of  universal  love. 


A  Woman  Alone 


THE  CHERRY  -  BLOSSOM  SEASON 
A  Land  of  Cherry  Blossoms 

IT  is  not  enough  to  simply  visit  a  country, 
for  that  does  not  mean  successful  travelling, 
nor  imply  that  one  has  seen  the  land.  The 
aim  of  the  traveller  should  be  to  be  at  the 
right  time  in  the  right  place.  Spring  is  liable 
to  be  cold  and  dreary  in  Japan.  There  are 
many  days  of  mist  and  rain,  yet  the  wanderer 
who  can  control  his  steps  makes  a  big  mis- 
take in  losing  the  joys  of  the  cherry  season. 
We  were  hovering  over  a  hebachi,  trying  to 
extract  a  bit  of  heat  from  the  slumbering 
charcoal  for  our  frigid  fingers,  when  the  man 
declared  he  would  never  come  again  in 
spring-time  cold  and  raw,  but  would  wait  for 
warmer  weather.  He  little  guessed  the  dis- 
comfort and  the  suffering  from  midsummer 
heat  in  fair  Japan.  I  suggested  that  his  rea- 

26 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

soning  ignored  the  typical  event  of  the  year, 
the  lovely  cherry-blossom  fete,  but  he  bore 
down  upon  me  with  all  the  wisdom  of  igno- 
rance. He  knew  what  cherry  blossoms  werel 
We  had  them  at  home!  He  had  not  crossed 
the  water  merely  to  see  cherry  blossoms! 

To  see  a  single  branch,  a  single  tree^  a 
single  orchard  of  New  England  blossoms,  is 
quite  another  thing  from  seeing  the  entire 
land  swept  with  a  misty  and  a  magic  veil  of 
pink  and  white.  It  is  safe  to  arrive  in  Japan 
the  first  of  April.  During  the  next  two 
weeks  the  land  is  wrapped  in  mystic  colour. 
Bands  of  diaphanous  tints  spread  through  the 
sky,  as  if  Iris  had  dropped  her  dainty  scarf 
across  our  way.  Down  the  back  lanes  and 
across  country  paths,  in  the  broad  acres  of 
Ueno  Park,  through  the  woodland,  and  along 
the  banks  of  the  Arashiyama  rapids,  wher- 
ever the  pilgrim  turns  his  staff,  the  beautiful 
blossoms  are  floating  through  the  air,  and  life 
outdoors  seems  a  fairy  dream.  The  foreign- 
ers wonder  and  admire,  while  the  natives 
love  and  adore  the  tender  blossoms.  Word 
is  sped  from  Tokio  to  Yokohama,  "  The 
cherries  are  at  their  height  to-day.  The  best 
may  be  gone  if  you  wait  another  day.  Don't 
fail  to  come  at  once,"  and  the  trains  are 

27 


A  Woman  Alone 

packed  with  enthusiasts.  rThe  foreigners  are 
there  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  see  and 
enjoy,  while  the  natives  are  ready  for  the  first 
excuse  to  picnic.  They  are  devoted  to  excur- 
sions, so  the  little  men  close  their  shops,  and 
the  little  ladies  gather  the  children,  and,  with 
the  last  baby  on  the  mother's  back  and  the 
next  one  strapped  to  an  older  sister,  they  all 
clatter  away  to  Ueno,  where  the  daintiest 
shades  sweep  the  air.  They  wander  along 
the  highways,  and  thousands  of  clogs  resound 
by  the  banks  of  the  Sumida,  where  the 
branches  sweep  off  to  the  river,  where  the 
pleasure-boats  ply  the  stream.  The  roadways 
are  dense  with  the  crowding,  surging  masses, 
all  kindly,  all  sauntering  leisurely,  where 
venders  of  foods  and  of  toys  are  making  a 
harvest.  It  is  a  living  picture  of  native  life, 
a  panorama  to  enjoy  for  ever.  In  such  a 
scene  of  spontaneous  pleasure  one  comes  in 
touch  with  real  Japan.  It  is  the  true  life  of 
the  people,  with  nothing  artificial  made  up 
for  the  tourist. 

Every  one  who  could  lingered  near  the 
capital,  till  the  time  for  the  great  garden- 
party  of  the  emperor,  which  is  the  society 
ambition  of  the  tourist.  His  Highness  waited 
for  the  fairest  bloom  of  his  double  cherry 

28 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

blossoms,  and  the  date  was  vague,  until  just 
before  the  event,  which  occurred  April  lyth. 

From  Yokohama  to  Kioto  by  Boat 

There  were  other  regions  glowing  with 
beauty,  and  there  were  weird  celebrations  in 
honour  of  the  national  flower  at  the  ancient 
capital  of  Kioto,  and  on  the  day  following  the 
emperor's  party  we  started  for  the  distant  city. 
Sheets  of  rain  pattered  on  the  rikshas  as  we 
were  whirled  toward  the  wharf,  but  they 
benignly  ceased  just  long  enough  to  transfer 
us  in  a  sampan,  with  the  canvas  trunk,  to  the 
big  boat  in  the  bay.  There  were  few  com- 
panions on  the  old  Peking  which  bore  us 
down  to  Kobe,  and  the  boat  has  since  been 
beached  as  useless.  We  lay  helpless  through 
a  tiresome  day,  and  the  lady  who  got  up  feel- 
ing "  fine  as  a  fiddle  "  soon  succumbed  to  the 
rough  passage,  and  tumbled  into  her  bunk 
feeling  anything  but  fine.  The  old  English 
lady  with  high  collar,  who  played  the  role  of 
stewardess,  said  "  my  dear  "  through  all  the 
trip,  and  a  bright  Sunday  morning  saw  us 
in  the  harbour  of  Kobe,  where  I  began  a 
search  for  the  trunk,  which  seemed  irrevo- 
cably lost.  The  space  which  held  it  the  night 

39 


A  Woman  Alone 

we  embarked  was  void  of  baggage,  and,  after 
long  'talk  and  many  signs,  it  was  dragged 
from  an  empty  cabin,  like  a  guilty  stowaway, 
and  we  made  a  march  for  the  station,  to  book 
for  old  Kioto,  where  the  wonderful  Miyako 
Odori  was  running  a  merry  month  of  cherry 
dances,  to  the  joy  of  the  native  and  the  won- 
der of  the  foreigner. 

/f  Ceremonious  Tea-party 

The  tea  ceremony  preceded  the  dance,  and 
we  waited  in  the  anteroom,  shod  in  moccasins 
and  armed  with  wooden  tickets.  The  usher 
waved  us  to  the  inner  shrine,  where  low  stools 
and  lacquer  tables  lined  the  walls,  and  the 
guests  in  solemn  silence  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

Mincing,  but  quiet  and  dignified,  five  wee 
fairies  toddled  in,  each  bringing  a  much- 
flowered  earthen  saucer  and  a  pasty  ball 
stabbed  with  a  skewer.  She  dropped  her 
offering  before  a  guest,  bent  herself  double 
in  salute,  and  tottered  away.  Back  and  forth 
they  flitted,  like  rainbows  running  across  the 
carpet,  till  all  were  served.  Each  maid  was 
in  gala  gown,  and  topped  by  a  chignon  of 
flowers.  They  relaxed  not  a  muscle,  gave  no 

30 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

side  glance  to  the  stranger,  but  lived  up  to  the 
important  dignity  of  their  mission.  These 
children  of  eight  years  showed  the  discipline 
of  the  tried  soldier,  and  were  far  more  cor- 
rect than  the  guests.  They  disappeared,  and 
all  the  foreigners  looked  fearfully  at  the 
snowballs  before  them. 

One  green  and  hungry  creature  tried  to 
sample  the  frosting.  She  was  promptly 
thumped  and  warned  by  a  stage  whisper, 
"  Use  your  eyes.  They  only  look  at  it."  Peo- 
ple smoked  freely,  and  knocked  the  ashes 
into  little  trays  on  the  table.  One  gentleman 
revealed  the  mystery  of  the  bamboo  tube, 
which  had  so  bothered  me.  He  coughed  seri- 
ously, raised  the  tube,  and  replaced  it  on  the 
stand.  So  the  tubes  were  cuspidors  within 
arm's  reach.  It  does  not  sound  pretty  for  a 
tea-party,  but  the  tubes  answered  a  human 
need,  and  the  fleckless  floor  was  never  sullied 
by  a  careless  aim  at  a  distant  spittoon.  There 
never  was  a  native  so  debased  that  he  spat 
on  the  spotless  matting. 

All  eyes  were  on  the  door  as  the  queen  of 
night  stood  on  the  threshold,  wearing  long 
black  robes,  with  suggestion  of  colour  at  neck 
and  arms.  She  made  a  low  salutation,  and 
moved  with  measured  grace  to  her  table 


A  Woman  Alone 

arrayed  with  a  caldron  and  exquisite  dishes. 
She  showed  her  elegant  fingers  to  advantage 
as  she  reached  for  her  utensils  with  dexterous 
precision,  and  drew  them  to  her  at  the  angle 
demanded  by  the  code  of  tea  etiquette  ar- 
ranged by  Hideyoshi  and  his  nobles  centuries 
before.  From  her  obi  she  drew  a  dainty  silk 
cloth,  and  folded  it  with  care,  ere  she  dusted 
off  each  dish.  Her  dignity  was  courtly;  she 
seemed  utterly  oblivious  of  everything  but 
that  elegant  ceremony.  With  a  long  ladle  she 
poured  hot  water,  and  with  a  bamboo  wisp 
stirred  the  beverage.  A  rainbow  doll  beside 
her  carried  the  bowl  of  powdered  liquid  to 
the  nearest  guest,  and  the  queen  backed,  bow- 
ing, from  the  room  to  replenish  her  teapot. 
Other  rainbows  glided  in  with  steaming 
bowls,  and  gathered  up  the  tickets,  amid  many 
salaams.  The  queen  returned  and  made  an- 
other bowl,  which  came  to  me,  in  line  of  pro- 
cession. Then  the  statuesque  lady  waited, 
while  the  natives  lapped  and  sucked,  swung 
their  bowls  and  caught  the  last  leaf,  and  it 
sounded  as  if  a  tidal  wave  were  sweeping 
away  the  bowls  and  the  drinkers.  Such  pomp 
and  ceremony  over  the  choky  stuff,  which 
seemed  to  my  uncultivated  taste  a  fit  penalty 
for  murderers,  was  a  strain  on  the  nerves,  and 

32 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

I  nearly  upset  the  tea-party  descended  from 
Hideyoshi  by  casting  a  merry  smile  and  a 
wicked  wink  at  the  little  waiting-maid,  who 
fell  from  dignity  into  a  semi-smothered  and 
explosive  snicker,  while  the  neighbours  help- 
lessly stared  her  out  of  countenance.  She 
regained  her  stoicism,  and  crept  up  to  my 
side  to  innocently  ask,  "  More  tea? "  My 
negative  was  positive,  and  she  said  a  kindly 
"  Thank  you,"  as  she  grabbed  the  bowl  and 
tottered  away.  In  the  oppressive  silence 
which  followed  no  one  moved,  till  the  gra- 
cious queen  of  the  occasion  rose  and  left  the 
room,  with  stately  slides  and  graceful  bows. 
Then  every  native  drew  forth  a  handkerchief, 
and  wrapped  up  the  saucers  and  the  frosted 
cake.  Like  souvenir  fiends  we,  too,  pocketed 
our  trophies,  and  then  repaired  to  the  theatre. 

The  Theatre  in  Cherry-blossom  Season 

A  rear  gallery  was  reserved  for  foreigners, 
while  the  natives  squatted  on  their  mats  on 
the  floor  of  the  house.  The  stage  ran  around 
the  sides  and  front.  A  whine,  a  wail,  which 
rose  to  a  whoop,  broke  through  the  walls  as 
the  curtain  lifted  and  showed  rows  of  kneel- 
ing girls,  robed  in  heliotrope  and  violet. 

33 


A  Woman  Alone 

Pound,  pound,  thump,  thump,  they  beat  the 
drum-heads,  jerking  back,  with  a  quick, 
right-angled  movement  holding  one  stick 
straight  in  air,  and  dropping  the  other  like 
a  pile-driver.  They  were  stiff  and  angular 
as  puppets  pulled  by  strings.  Some  held, 
against  their  faces,  drums  which  looked  like 
hour-glasses,  and  these  the  little  ladies 
spanked  with  methodical  rhythm.  A  Thomas 
concert  on  the  back  fence  is  the  only  simile 
for  the  dreadful  tones  produced,  screaming 
in  high  falsetto  and  then  chasing  down  to  a 
subterranean  note,  till  we  shuddered  to  think 
of  the  suffering  of  the  performers.  "  Wiauh- 
auu-auu,  wiau-au-u  au-u-u!"  they  shrieked 
and  moaned,  till  we  longed  for  their  trials  to 
end.  What  at  first  was  funny  became  sad 
and  mournful.  Tragically  they  banged  on 
the  right,  and  dramatically  they  responded 
from  the  left  wing.  Pathetic  notes  in  a  nasal 
twang  accompanied  the  picking  and  scraping 
of  the  strings,  which  sounded  through  three 
sad  tones,  till  one  felt  that  "  the  melancholy 
days  have  come."  Demon  was  pitted  against 
demon  in  a  sad,  mad  travesty  of  music. 

Geishas  advanced  to  the  front,  gesturing 
with  palm  fans,  and  attitudinizing  to  every 
fantastic  pose.  They  ran  away,  to  reappear 

34 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

with  folded  fans,  which  they  shook  loose 
and  raised  and  lowered  over  their  heads  and 
beside  them.  Again  they  ran  off,  while  the 
scenes  were  shifted.  There  was  no  attempt 
to  conceal  the  changes.  Coolies,  like  artless 
children,  placed  cascades  and  castles  before 
the  audience.  They  arranged  glittering  pal- 
aces, and  rippling  waters  fell  through  the 
forest's  shade.  The  airy  and  fantastic  vision 
compensated  for  the  agony  which  our  ears 
had  endured. 

The  little  maids  returned  with  scrolls. 
They  advanced  and  retreated  till  they  met  a 
vapoury  line,  and  pinned  their  papers  in  the 
air.  It  reminded  one  of  Orlando  as  he 
pinned  sonnets  to  the  trees.  There  the  mis- 
sives fluttered  and  unrolled,  in  a  vision  of 
pretty  colour  and  form,  fantastic  valentines, 
caught  in  mid-air.  Then  the  scene  changed 
to  a  cherry-blossom  realm.  Clouds  of  colour 
drooped  from  above.  The  midgets  reentered 
waving  and  fluttering  branches  of  pink  and 
white,  and  a  halo  of  soft  light  floated  above 
them.  We  wondered  not  that  the  artistic 
people  loved  their  cherry  blossoms,  that  they 
revelled  in  the  dreamy  beauty,  and  through 
twenty-eight  nights  of  the  month  of  April 
squatted  content  in  the  presence  of  the  cherry 

35 


A  Woman  Alone 

dances.  In  five  nightly  performances  of  forty 
happy  minutes  each  the  little  maids  created 
winsome  fairy-land,  and  held  the  people 
under  magic  spell;  and,  for  the  stranger, 
the  beating  of  tom-toms,  the  spanking  of 
drum-heads,  the  sad  caterwaul,  and  the  fog- 
horn note  were  forgotten  in  the  beauteous 
vision  of  sifting  petals. 

Public  Procession  of  Prostitutes 

Kioto  alone  retains  a  strange  remnant  of 
the  barbarism  formerly  practised,  but  now 
abolished,  throughout  all  the  other  cities,  and 
tourists  from  all  quarters  planned  attendance 
at  the  annual  procession  of  April  2ist.  It  is 
a  date  to  be  marked  and  remembered  if  the 
traveller  would  see  the  most  unique  pageant 
in  the  land,  but  it  is  not  a  sight  for  the  prude, 
and  the  ordinary  Christian  throws  away  scru- 
ples and  principles  in  a  measure  when  he 
lenda  his  countenance  to  the  strange,  sad 
spectacle.  Conventional  folks  would  prefer 
to  be  masked,  and  one  who  understands  the 
wherefore  of  the  scene  would  not  care  to  be 
recognized  by  casual  acquaintances.  Yet 
everybody  came,  some  innocently,  and  others 
knowingly,  for  the  best  of  people  do  throw 

36 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

away  conventionality  when  they  try  to  be  in- 
telligent travellers.  One  loses  in  knowledge 
who  clings  too  closely  to  old  rituals  in  a  for- 
eign land. 

The  eventful  day  dawned  in  a  setting  of 
gray.  If  the  pent-up  torrents  fell,  woe  betide 
the  tourists'  snap-shot,  and  the  gowns  of  the 
marching  girls.  No  one  was  sure  of  the 
hour,  and  the  uncertain  authorities  placed  it 
between  two  and  four.  It  was  risky  to  put 
trust  in  Oriental  figures,  and  it  would  be 
maddening  to  miss  what  one  had  come  so 
far  to  see. 

At  one  P.  M.  we  left  the  hotel  for  an  end- 
less ride,  beside  the  river,  along  the  canal, 
through  alleys,  and  among  shanties  winding 
out  on  to  a  country  road  fringed  with  rice 
paddies  and  mustard  fields.  At  the  narrow 
gate  of  the  enclosure  the  multitudes  bristled, 
and  left  not  a  free  inch.  I  squirmed  like  an 
eel  through  the  battling  throngs,  and  pushed 
my  way  up  the  narrow  lane,  though  coolies 
and  policemen  hit  me  in  the  ribs  as  I  ad- 
vanced. It  was  a  national  crush.  Homes  and 
tea-houses  were  open  to  friends  and  patrons, 
railed-off  squares  were  dense  with  humanity, 
and  every  balcony  had  its  crowds.  For  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  we  searched  up  the  narrow 

37 


A  Woman  Alone 

pass  for  the  enclosure  of  the  Kioto  House. 
"  Here,  lady,  this  way,"  said  a  kindly  voice 
in  recognition  of  a  patron,  and  his  flag  waved 
toward  me.  I  jumped  the  rail  and  settled  in 
a  front  seat. 

Two  hours  we  studied  the  va-et-vient  of 
the  natives.  Mothers  nursed  their  babies, 
who  turned  from  the  breast  to  coo  with  con- 
tent at  the  crowds.  A  careless  coolie  dropped 
a  large  part  of  his  trousers,  and  calmly 
stooped  to  gather  up  his  sash,  and  re-cover 
his  tawny  skin.  Neither  he  nor  his  friends 
felt  disturbed.  At  home  that  little  incident 
would  have  been  embarrassing,  only  it  could 
not  occur.  Nothing  more  natural  in  Japan 
than  that  a  man  might  drop  some  of  his  rai- 
ment, which  he  would  regard  as  a  bother, 
anyway. 

Only  once  did  I  notice  a  shock.  The  girl 
at  my  side  had  not  taken  in  the  situation,  nor 
caught  the  meaning  of  the  term  Yoshiwara, 
and  she  innocently  exclaimed:  "It  is  all 
very  queer  for  a  religious  ceremony.  Why 
don't  the  priests  appear?  " 

"  Priests !  "  I  gasped.  "  There  is  little  use 
for  them.  This  is  not  a  temple  service,  and 
there  is  not  much  room  for  religion  in  the 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

annual    parade    of    the    bad    girls    of    the 
brothel." 

Injured  Innocence  subsided,  while  native 
and  foreigner  jostled  together  in  a  scramble 
for  a  place.  Coolies  on  the  roof-tops  cracked 
their  witticisms,  which  the  crowd  applauded. 
At  last  they  were  coming.  People  turned 
their  eyes  and  craned  their  necks  toward  the 
entrance.  Bustling  policemen  made  a  nerv- 
ous attempt  to  clear  the  way.  The  crowd 
was  hushed.  On  they  came,  slowly,  a  dozen 
geishas,  in  scarlet,  tugging  at  the  cordon  of 
red  and  white  attached  to  the  fanciful  flower 
chariot.  Its  tinsel  work  trembled,  and  its 
slender  branches  quivered  as  if  they  would 
shake  their  soft  petals  on  the  crowds.  The 
flowers  were  only  pretty  papers,  with  the 
appearance  of  a  moving  garden.  The  natives 
live  among  flowers  and  are  easy  imitators  of 
the  pretty  blossoms  which  they  have  always 
cultivated. 

The  Leader  of  Sin  and  Her  Gay  Retinue 

The  artificial  car  was  the  prelude  of  the 
realism  to  follow.  It  was  succeeded  by  two 
mites,  possibly  of  six  years,  wearing  gay  ki- 
monos and  glossy  black  chignons,  done  like 

39 


A  Woman  Alone 

butterfly's  wings.  Their  skin  was  laid  with 
paste  and  paint,  which  proclaimed  how  false 
were  their  lives.  Slowly  they  paced  before 
their  mistress,  lifting  high  their  ungainly 
clogs.  Behind  came  the  Queen  of  Sin, 
shameless  leader  of  infamy  in  the  big  city. 
She  was  a  bundle  of  emblazoned  iniquity, 
paraded  through  the  streets  as  a  glorified 
advertisement  of  human  degradation. 

The  whole  procedure  was  a  pitiful  com- 
mentary on  the  disgusting  depravity  of  man- 
kind. The  twentieth  century  had  dawned 
since  the  Son  of  God  had  rebuked  the  woman 
of  licentious  life;  yet,  piled  upon  this  pin- 
nacle of  Christian  civilization,  in  an  age 
which  vaunts  its  purity  of  thought  and  holi- 
ness of  purpose,  a  nation  high  in  progress 
and  in  respectability  produced  this  public 
spectacle,  the  triumph  of  the  Scarlet  Woman, 
not  as  a  warning,  a  horror,  and  a  moral  les- 
son, but  as  an  iniquitous  triumph,  the  em- 
bodiment of  vice  rampant  in  the  modern 
world,  decked  in  costly  clothing,  dazzling 
with  gorgeous  finery  which  few  could  afford, 
which  only  the  wicked  would  wear,  a  glow- 
ing boast  of  the  traffic  in  human  life,  a  sensu- 
ous appeal  to  every  sensual  instinct  in  the 
range  of  human  passions,  an  unblushing, 

40 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

walking    advertisement    of    the    prostitutes7 
quarter! 

Christian  types  from  eVery  civilized  na- 
tion were  interested  spectators.  By  what  mo- 
tive they  were  drawn,  only  each  heart  could 
answer,  but  it  would  be  safe  to  say  that  nine, 
if  not  ten,  in  every  ten  were  drawn  by  mere 
curiosity.  We  could  not  honestly  attach  any 
high  motive  to  our  presence  at  a  scene  so 
degrading,  and  the  fact  of  our  presence  was 
a  travesty  on  our  boasted  purity.  We  had 
come  from  all  the  peoples  who  send  their 
teachers  and  their  preachers  to  reform  the 
heathen  world;  we  had  paid  high  and  had 
journeyed  fast  and  far;  we  had  endured  dis- 
comfort and  fatigue  to  partake  of  this  mon- 
strous scene  of  hardened  sin.  I  wondered 
what  thoughts  animated  the  audience  as  they 
watched  the  gaudy  sirens.  Was  there  a  thrill 
of  pity  for  the  creatures  plastered  thick  in 
immoral  mud,  girls  once  innocent,  who  now 
paraded  their  vileness?  Was  there  a  feeling 
akin  to  pity  in  any  human  heart  of  the  many 
who  countenanced  the  sin  by  their  presence? 
Did  the  watching  Christians  give  much 
thought  to  the  real  and  terrible  meaning  of 
the  passing  pageant?  From  my  own  sense  of 


A  Woman  Alone 

shame  and  sinking  of  heart,  I  longed  to  feel 
the  pulse  of  the  crowd. 

Whatever  thought  dominated,  the  visitors 
sat  in  speechless,  almost  breathless,  wonder 
before  the  queer  designs  and  radiant  colours 
of  these  strange  costumes.  I  searched  the 
face  of  the  leader  among  the  courtesans, 
chosen  as  the  first  exemplar  of  her  trade. 
She  was  without  expression,  like  a  stone 
image  propelled  by  a  machine.  If  she 
gloated  in  her  questionable  honour,  if  she 
delighted  in  her  publicity,  who  could  tell? 
It  is  not  given  nor  permitted  to  the  Japanese 
to  wear  the  heart  upon  the  sleeve,  and  if  that 
little  skull  held  any  thought,  it  was  well  hid- 
den from  the  curious  world;  the  Japanese 
are  skilled  in  reserve.  Her  face  was  plas- 
tered in  white  lead,  which  gave  her  the  pallor 
of  a  spectre.  Her  lower  lip  was  dyed  deep 
carmine,  and  her  upper  lip  shaded  from 
brown  to  black.  Her  raven  hair,  shiny  with 
oil,  and  drawn  high  on  the  Japanese  cushion, 
was  wound  with  bright  coils  of  wool,  inlaid 
with  beads.  Strings  of  coral  dangled  about, 
and  darts  of  bone  and  horn  formed  a  halo 
to  the  pallid  face.  She  wore  a  tiara  of  silver 
tinsel,  from  which  bobbed  a  garden  of  arti- 
ficial flowers.  The  decorations  were  gaudy, 

42 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

but  tawdry  and  cheap.1  Many  layers  of 
bright  lining  peeped  up  from  the  open  neck. 
At  equal  spaces  in  the  back  the  brown  skin 
showed  in  precise  triangles  where  the  white 
paint  was  not  applied,  and  the  effect  was 
like  a  very  regular  picket  fence.  The  accu- 
racy of  the  triangles  is  a  point  of  high  eti- 
quette among  the  girls.  She  carried  her 
hands  on  her  hips,  and  her  elbows  spread 
like  wings  beneath  the  robes,  supporting  the 
ponderous  garments  which  fell  in  heavy  folds 
to  her  feet.  The  brilliant  colouring  and  the 
groundwork  of  embroidery  made  a  mystery 
of  beauty.  Her  clogs  were  six  inches  high, 
deeply  notched,  and  her  step  was  the  climax 
of  stage  etiquette.  She  placed  one  foot  for- 
ward, and  turned  it  in  around  the  other,  stood 
poised,  turned  this  front  foot  out,  and  re- 
peated the  laborious  step  with  the  other  foot. 
She  marched  with  difficulty,  holding  the 
heavy  robes  which  fell  persistently  about  her 
feet,  which  were  natural  and  beautiful.  A 
people  who  have  never  been  shod  in  leather 
are  not  martyrs  to  corns  and  bunions,  and  her 
foot  was  a  shapely  type,  not  compressed,  but 
spread  as  nature  intended,  and  the  fat,  pink 
toes  were  tipped  by  pretty  nails.  She  passed 
like  a  moving  statue,  bedecked  in  gay  colour. 

43 


A   Woman  Alone 

She  seemed  totally  unfeeling.  Not  a  side 
glance  from  the  tail  of  her  eye  did  she  give 
to  the  thousands  lined  up  to  stare  her  out  of 
countenance. 

Near  her  walked  her  ahmah,  a  womanly 
attendant  in  dark  robes,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  foresee  the  girl's  needs.  Behind  came  her 
coolie,  dressed  in  flowing  green,  embroidered 
with  the  crest  of  her  house,  a  pretty  clover 
leaf.  Above  the  girl's  head  he  carried  a  huge 
umbrella  of  oiled  paper  and  bamboo. 

For  an  instant  she  halted  and  trembled, 
and  we  wondered  if  she  would  fall  from  her 
stilted  clogs.  Was  the  honour  of  heading 
the  procession  overpowering  her?  Had  she 
a  fear  that  she  would  not  do  credit  to  her 
calling?  Was  she  stage-struck  before  the 
great  throngs?  Was  she  faint  with  the 
weight  of  her  robes?  Did  a  latent  sense  of 
shame  shake  the  little  body?  Certainly  this 
girl  of  the  public,  daubed  with  paint,  and 
plastered  with  paste  and  with  crime  so  deep 
that  one  questioned  if  she  still  had  soul  or 
sense,  trembled  on  her  pedestal  of  shame. 
Drops  of  sweat  oozed  through  the  whitewash, 
and  trickled  in  streamlets  toward  the  exact 
brown  triangles.  With  pats  of  her  silk  ker- 
chief, the  ahmah  dried  the  slimy  spots.  Care- 

44 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

fully  she  placed  a  hairpin  and  arranged  the 
heavy  folds  that  fell  about  the  woman's  feet. 
The  wadded  robe  was  awkward,  and  per- 
versely swung  about  the  ankles ;  but,  picking 
up  her  garments  and  taking  courage  afresh, 
the  girl  passed  on. 

A  Sad  Object-lesson 

Our  eyes  turned  to  the  next  vanguard  of 
midgets  and  to  their  gay  mistress.  Sympathy 
was  strong  for  these  little  ones  apprenticed 
to  crime  and  nurtured  in  the  dens  of  sin. 
They  were  fated  children,  doomed  to  a  life 
which  was  not  their  choice.  They  were  early 
candidates  for  future  shame. 

Every  beautiful  shade  of  colour  passed  in 
the  gay  gowns.  Deep  carmine,  royal  purple, 
sky-blue,  Nile-green,  scarlet,  heliotrope,  like 
waves  of  light,  were  woven  in  marvellous 
designs,  shot  with  gold  thread,  and  glittering 
with  fanciful  effects.  A  huge  peacock  spread 
his  proud  wings  in  rich  embroidery.  The 
lotus,  the  iris,  and  the  cherry  loomed  in  a 
blaze  of  beauty  on  the  gowns.  The  stork 
stood  tall  among  the  reeds.  Just  an  hour  and 
five  minutes  were  consumed  in  the  passing 
of  the  glittering  pageant,  which  contained 

45 


A   Woman  Alone 

only  ten  girls  and  their  personnel.  Closely 
I  looked  for  the  hidden  history  in  the  face 
of  each  courtesan.  I  never  saw  pleasure,  not 
a  vestige  of  joy.  If  the  face  were  not  a  blank, 
it  stood  for  stony  indifference,  as  if  the  girl 
were  driven  blindly  on  through  empty  space. 
Sometimes  there  were  pathos  and  sadness,  a 
hunger  and  longing  in  the  eyes  which  might 
never  again  be  lighted  by  hope.  Occasionally 
the  girl  spoke  briefly  to  her  ahmah,  but 
always  with  a  quiet  dignity.  Not  once  did 
a  girl  show  consciousness  of  the  staring 
crowds. 

"  They  are  prostitutes,  but  very  great 
ladies,  so  grand  that  they  often  keep  their 
noblest  patron  waiting,  and  will  not  see  him 
till  it  suits  their  pleasure,"  said  a  guide.  The 
remark  was  a  key  to  the  situation  in  Japan. 
The  lost  girl,  isolated,  and  set  apart  in  her 
peculiar  quarter,  yet  held  mastery  among  her 
guests.  She  was  sure  of  patronage.  The 
highest  and  the  noblest  would  bid  for  her, 
and,  while  she  held  her  popular  rank,  she 
could  indulge  her  petty  whims  and  fancies, 
and  the  nobles  themselves  must  do  her  bid- 
ding. 

If  the  reckless  foreigner  was  not  awed  and 
subdued  by  the  thrilling  object-lesson,  at  least 

46 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

he  made  his  comments  in  hushed  voice. 
Among  the  visitors  silence  seemed  golden, 
and  speech  was  the  tinkling  brass  that  jarred. 
We  had  much  to  fill  the  thought.  The  Japa- 
nese took  it  lightly.  They  were  used  to  it, 
and  it  meant  a  gala-day,  one  more  picnic 
added  to  their  outings,  which  they  would 
not  have  missed  for  anything.  Babies  in  gay 
kimonos  cooed  and  crowed  in  delight,  and 
reached  their  fat  hands  for  the  passing  gew- 
gaws. Grown-ups  chattered  in  their  heed- 
less way,  happy  as  if  watching  a  circus. 
Rough  coolies  on  the  roof-tops  shouted  deri- 
sive insults  and  were  loudly  applauded.  Re- 
gardless of  praise  or  censure,  the  living 
images  glided  on,  till  the  last  was  a  bright 
mass  of  colour  and  gold  embroidery  in  the 
distance.  Mothers  strapped  their  babies  on 
their  backs,  and  I  wondered  if  many  of  those 
laughing  little  ones  were  destined  to  a  sim- 
ilar fate.  Coolies  slid  from  the  roofs.  As 
if  stunned  by  a  too  bright  light,  or  by  a  blow 
in  the  conscience,  we  pulled  ourselves  to- 
gether. To  us  the  spectacle  seemed  sad  and 
revolting;  we  knew  that  Mephisto  had 
tempted  Faust  with  the  houris  of  hell. 


47 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER   III 

SIGHTSEEING 
A  Typical  Temple 

WE  alighted  at  the  leafy  station  in  the  hills, 
and  were  hailed  with  the  cry  of  "  Riksha, 
riksha,"  by  the  little  men  in  dish-pan  hats. 
We  knew  what  we  wanted,  and  when  we  had 
extracted  from  their  light  vocabulary  the 
words,  "  Temple  bell,  pine-tree,  boat,"  we 
hoped  nothing  further  from  their  scanty  Eng- 
lish so  far  inland,  and  we  settled  down  for 
a  trundle  through  a  labyrinth  of  lanes  lined 
with  stalls  of  china  Buddhas,  and  past  sheds 
where  tea  and  sake  tempted  the  traveller. 

I  was  temple-tired,  for  often  had  I  passed 
through  that  red  and  black  sign  of  Shinto 
faith,  the  picturesque  torii,  which  stands  be- 
fore the  temple  where  natives  drink  from  the 
holy  well,  and  toss  a  penny  through  the  grate, 
as  they  pull  the  bell-rope  and  clap  their 

48 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

hands  to  call  the  god's  attention  to  the  gift, 
as  they  mumble  the  prayer,  "  Amida-Buddha, 
Amida-Buddha."  Behind  the  lattice  sits 
great  Buddha,  covered  with  spit-balls,  which 
are  the  prayers  of  the  faithful,  and  have  been 
answered  if  the  little  wads  have  stuck  to  the 
god.  He  is  often  so  covered  with  the  pellets 
that  he  looks  like  a  modern  Job,  bursting 
with  boils. 

Traditions  of  a  Temple  Bell 

Beneath  a  tiresome  flight  of  steps,  the  view 
stretched  out  to  thatched  roofs  wrapped  in 
purple  and  white  wistaria,  and  flashes  of 
colour  lay  beside  the  pearly  line  of  road 
which  ran  beside  the  blue  lake,  whose  deep 
green  hills  rose  like  protecting  giants  by  the 
edge.  Descending  to  the  sombre  forest,  by 
paths  of  velvet  moss,  we  sought  the  monas- 
tery bell  in  the  thicket.  Generally  the 
tongueless  temple  bell  has  its  separate  home, 
and  stands  unmoved  till  it  resounds  to  the 
push  of  the  big  battering  ram  which  hangs 
at  its  side,  as  the  devotee  offers  up  his^)rayer. 
Not  to  pray  or  to  push  the  beam  had  we 
rolled  through  the  forest,  but  to  hunt  the  tra- 
dition of  the  hillside,  where  famous  Benkei, 

49 


A  Woman  Alone 

bold  bell  robber  and  sacrilegious  kidnapper, 
had  performed  his  daring  deed.  He  was  a 
wicked  giant  of  the  twelfth  century,  eight 
feet  tall,  with  the  strength  of  a  hundred  men. 
While  trying  to  kill  a  worthy  hero,  he  found 
that  his  would-be  victim  was  an  abler  fencer 
than  himself,  and,  from  admiration  for  supe- 
rior power,  he  became  the  hero's  devoted 
henchman.  Benkei  settled  on  the  schoolboy 
trick  of  depriving  the  old  monks  of  their 
monastery  bell,  so  he  carried  it  to  the  moun- 
tain's top,  and  beat  a  hideous  racket  all  the 
night.  The  despairing  priests  pleaded  for 
their  treasure,  and  he  promised  to  surrender 
the  bell  if  they  would  make  him  all  the  bean 
porridge  he  could  eat.  So  they  rilled  him  a 
soup  tureen  five  feet  in  diameter.  Tragic 
pictures  show  Benkei  in  every  stage  of  his 
crime,  and  sake  cups  are  sold  in  triplets  to 
impress  his  infamy,  showing  him  scrambling 
wildly  up  the  mountain  bearing  the  big  bell, 
sitting  on  the  height  banging  the  tom-toms, 
and  again  delighting  in  his  big  porringer. 

Another  fable  claims  that  the  old  bell  was 
stolen  by  the  monks  of  a  neighbouring  mon- 
astery, but  to  them  it  gave  only  the  pleading 
wail,  "  I  want  to  go  back  to  Miidera,"  and 
in  wrath  and  fear  the  holy  thieves  flung  it 

50 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

down  the  slopes,  as  if  it  were  a  thing  unclean. 
We  may  believe  any  hard  history  of  a  bell 
which  is  so  full  of  seams  and  scars. 

An  Aged  Pine-tree 

From  woodland  we  rolled  to  the  highway, 
flanked  by  sparkling  waters,  and  by  gardens 
green  with  rice  and  barley,  golden  with  mus- 
tard, and  tangled  with  red  lupin.  It  was  the 
wheelman's  paradise,  with  a  road  that 
stretched  like  a  silvery  ribbon,  fringed  by 
dark  violets,  where  happy  snakes  blinked 
dreamily  in  graceful  coils,  or  scampered  in 
the  crannies  of  a  bridge. 

"  The  pine-tree,  the  pine-tree,  that  is  the 
sacred  pine,"  we  shouted,  for  its  name  and 
fame  are  wide  in  the  land,  as  its  size  and 
age  are  great.  Long  ago  it  ceased  to  have 
a  birthday,  but  probably  for  more  than  a 
thousand  years  its  green  branches  have  waved 
in  the  air.  In  the  sands  of  a  plain  beside  the 
lake  it  stands  propped  with  tender  care,  loved 
and  worshipped  throughout  the  empire. 
Stout  beams  support  its  aged  limbs,  and 
stone  columns  prop  its  bending  branches. 
Decaying  spots  are  filled  with  cement,  and  a 
tiny  roof  forms  a  protecting  watershed  to 


A   Woman  Alone 

shield  the  top  from  raging  storms.  The  vet- 
eran tree  is  a  holy  treasure  of  Japan,  and 
before  it  is  a  Shinto  shrine,  where  the  pil- 
grim prays.  Whoever  doffs  the  hat  to  age 
may  stand  in  reverence  before  this  majestic 
monarch  of  the  plains,  who  has  reared  his 
head  so  long  in  defiance  of  the  ravages  of 
weather  and  the  withering  blight  of  time. 
Frail  man  shrivels  up  before  such  endurance. 
The  majestic  pine  has  seen  the  centuries  come 
and  go,  has  witnessed  the  rise  and  fall  of 
dynasties,  the  overthrow  of  governments,  the 
fluctuations  of  thought,  the  advance  of  civi- 
lization, the  changes  of  religion,  the  fate  of 
war,  the  destruction  of  peoples.  Amid  all  the 
strife  the  noble  tree  has  quietly,  steadily, 
peacefully  grown.  Its  spreading  branches, 
two  hundred  and  eighty  feet  in  width,  tell 
the  lesson  of  patient,  persistent  purpose,  calm 
and  unmoved  amid  tempests.  Power  in  re- 
pose is  the  suggestive  hint  to  its  admirers. 

The  guardian  of  the  tea-house  spread  mat- 
tings on  the  little  table,  and  prepared  to  serve 
the  guests.  Our  hotel  luncheon  was  most 
generous,  and  I  carried  a  goodly  portion  to 
the  rikmen  in  their  booth.  They  returned 
abundant  thanks,  and  a  few  moments  later 
gave  us  a  desperate  scare,  as  they  came  wind- 

52 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ing  through  the  bushes.  Little  does  the 
abrupt  and  hurried  West  comprehend  the 
polite  and  gentle  East,  which  is  never  too 
rushed  for  an  overflow  of  good  manners. 
Often  are  we  overwhelmed  and  humiliated 
by  the  kindly  courtesy  of  the  Orient.  Too 
often  we  are  brutally  suspicious  and  cruelly 
distrustful,  when  the  intent  of  the  native  is 
all  goodness.  Instantly,  as  we  saw  the  dish- 
pan  Jehus  coming,  we  of  little  faith  were  on 
the  defensive. 

"  We  are  here  to  stay  a  bit,  and  to  enjoy 
life.  Those  base  men  need  not  think  they 
can  trundle  us  back  this  minute,"  said  my 
chum. 

"  Alas  for  the  rarity 

Of  Christian  charity 

Under  the  sun  !  " 

No  such  unworthy  thought  as  trundling 
back  had  percolated  their  tiny  brains.  With 
their  dish-pans  in  their  hands,  they  were 
smiling  blandly,  bowing  low  and  scraping, 
as  they  said  a  friendly  "  Thank  you "  for 
the  lunch  devoured,  while  we  blushed  to 
think  we  knew  so  little  of  table  etiquette  that 
we  did  not  even  recognize  it  when  we  saw 
it  coming  toward  us.  The  traveller  might 
everywhere  save  himself  "  heap-lots "  worry, 

53 


A  Woman  Alone 

if  he  did  not  anticipate  the  evil  which  will 
never  come  his  way. 

The  Lake  Biwa  Canal 

One  commencement  day,  a  college  graduate 
of  Tokio  set  all  other  graduates  a  worthy 
example,  as  he  refused  to  sweep  the  fields  of 
oratory  with  the  usual  flowery  platitudes,  and 
dealt  with  matters  practical,  that  his  erudi- 
tion might  be  a  blessing  to  his  land.  His 
essay,  for  the  College  of  Engineering,  gave 
birth  to  the  Lake  Biwa  Canal,  opened  in 
1890,  as  an  invaluable  highway  for  men  and 
matter.  The  authorities  saw  the  worth  of 
his  idea,  and  appointed  the  essayist  to  exe- 
cute the  scheme.  The  engineer's  right  arm 
became  paralyzed  while  drawing  his  plans, 
and  he  finished  them  with  the  left  hand.  It 
was  a  gigantic  feat  to  carry  the  water  up  to 
Kioto  by  a  canal  seven  miles  long,  which 
included  three  tunnels  of  a  total  length  of 
two  and  a  half  miles  through  the  very  heart 
of  the  mountain. 

The  ticket  man  was  determined  to  send 
us  off  in  a  private  boat,  perhaps  thinking  we 
might  not  be  pleasing  to  his  countrymen,  but 
we  were  bent  on  native  ways,  and  paid  sixteen 

54 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

sen,  eight  cents  each,  for  a  place  on  the  floor 
of  the  clumsy  scow.  This  meant  travelling 
first-class,  and  the  natives  remonstrated  wildly 
when  we  made  a  mistaken  tumble  into  their 
second-class  compartment.  Being  travelling 
aristocrats,  we  must  labour  to  roll  over  the 
gunwale,  at  the  prow,  and  monopolize  our 
own  side.  They  would  have  nought  to  do 
with  such  high-priced  people.  The  roof  was 
removed  to  give  us  room  to  sit  up,  and  the 
natives  prepared  to  enjoy  us,  as  they  squatted 
close,  giggled  and  grinned,  eyed  us  tenderly, 
and  remarked  our  every  move.  With  a 
rhythmical  thud  of  the  oar,  we  were  sculled 
up-stream,  and  daylight  disappeared  as  we 
slipped  into  the  tunnel.  A  single  lantern  in 
the  centre  of  the  boat  made  the  near  dark- 
ness visible.  The  long  passage  was  of  Egyp- 
tian blackness,  and  I  peered  ahead  for  any 
glimmer  which  might  relieve  the  gloom.  A 
single  star  gleamed  out  in  the  distance.  It 
grew  brighter,  larger,  nearer.  Was  it  day- 
light? Were  we  coming  to  free  air  and  open 
sky  beyond  the  weighty  brick  which  walled 
us  in  beneath  strong  Mis?  There  came  a 
rush  of  waters  and  a  sound  of  turning  wheels. 
A  dark  object  shot  past,  and  the  fleeting 
spark  revealed  a  nude  man  pacing  the  boat, 

55 


A   Woman  Alone 

as  he  pulled  the  cable  which  drew  it  down 
the  incline,  in  a  revolving  cradle.  The  mid- 
night pall  settled  down  again,  and  we  floated 
on,  in  the  mystery  of  darkness.  The  boat- 
man's thud  at  the  stern  was  the  only  sound 
on  the  still  waters. 

The  nervous  woman  or  the  tactless  man 
would  be  out  of  place  in  the  dark  tunnel,  for 
it  is  very  gruesome.  The  chum,  prone  on 
the  floor  at  my  side,  was  pale  and  restless, 
as  we  swung  into  the  sunshine. 

"  Are  you  sick?  "  she  feebly  gasped. 

"  Sick  in  a  cradle,  the  water  is  a  sheet  of 
glass  1 "  I  said,  and  she  answered  mildly,  "  It 
is  many  a  year  since  my  cradle  days,  but 
this  thud  strikes  terror  to  my  head  and  stom- 
ach and  racks  every  nerve  in  my  body." 

Indeed  it  was  a  test,  and  the  second-class 
people  were  moaning  and  groaning,  leaning 
over  the  gunwale  and  offering  up  their 
agony. 

Shooting  the  Rapids  at  Arashiyama 

Old  Kioto  and  its  numberless  suburbs  are 
a  ravishing  feast  for  the  rover,  and  one 
guards  well  his  precious  time.  We  had  been 
told  that  "  the  trip  to  the  Rapids  is  a  wicked 

56 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

waste  of  precious  Kioto  time."  Much  is 
to  be  forgiven,  if  this  rash  statement  should 
deprive  a  tourist  of  one  of  the  fairest  out- 
ings in  the  realm.  Other  adventurers  had 
said,  "  Do  not  fail  to  take  it.  The  scenery 
repays  by  its  charm,  even  if  the  season  be  dry, 
and  the  Rapids  tame."  Another's  experience 
is  never  a  sure  test,  as  it  is  the  personal  fac- 
tor which  must  solve  every  problem. 

I  was  fortunate  to  make  the  shoot  in  time 
of  heavy  freshet.  "  We  have  had  no  tele- 
gram to  warn  us,  so  we  know  you  can  get 
through,  but  the  waters  will  be  very  high 
and  dangerous,  it  will  cost  you  more,  and, 
if  you  have  the  time  to  wait,  you  would 
better  delay  a  day,"  was  the  advice  which 
decided  us  to  "  stand  not  on  the  order  of 
our  going,  but  go  at  once."  The  following 
day,  the  mad  waters  had  abated  two  feet,  and 
the  rousing  sport  that  goes  with  danger  was 
all  lost. 

A  railway,  cutting  its  course  through 
mountain  gorges,  carried  us  to  the  head 
waters.  Naturally  the  picked  men  would 
be-  in  the  first  boats,  and,  plunging  from 
car  into  riksha,  we  were  rattled  over  the 
rocky  road  to  the  wharf,  where  we  suc- 
cumbed to  the  ways  of  the  Orient  and  dick- 

57 


A  Woman  Alone 

ered  and  chaffered  in  long-drawn  Japanese 
style.  Extra  men,  and  rising  waters,  put  a 
higher  price  on  the  boats,  and  the  trip  had 
jumped  three  yen  in  value,  but  who  would 
begrudge  the  leap  in  frenzied  finance  with 
the  promise  of  sport  ahead?  For  eight  yen, 
fifty,  we  received  a  streaky  document,  black- 
ened from  the  ink-pot  of  a  priestly  manager. 
We  gawkily  dragged  our  skirts  over  the 
stockade  of  the  clumsy  flat  scow.  They  gave 
us  chairs  and  mattings  to  protect  against 
splashes  over  the  gunwale.  Seven  sturdy 
natives  leaped  aboard,  and  our  quartette  was 
off,  the  first  of  the  fleet,  to  try  its  fate  in 
the  whirling  stream.  For  a  mad  hour  we 
were  tossed  by  the  torrent,  tearing  on  in 
our  course  which  was  bounded  by  rocks  that 
formed  a  channel  for  the  centre.  Bright 
sun  and  cloudless  sky  made  an  ideal  day  for 
a  country  outing.  Fluttering  birds  sang  a 
pean  of  triumph  to  the  storm  that  was  past. 
Coppery  maples  and  flowering  azaleas 
blazed  in  beauty,  and  clouds  of  cherry  blos- 
soms drifted  off  on  the  breeze.  Bits  of 
Norway  came  in  view,  as  we  dashed  past 
a  forest  of  towering  pine.  It  was  a  mad 
race  with  the  waters. 
The  trip  began  with  the  pretty  and  the 

58 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

picturesque,  and  suggested  passive  anecdote. 
The  beefy  Australian,  with  a  bushwhacker's 
accent,  tenderly  told  us  the  cause  of  the 
American  Revolution.  "  The  colonies  re- 
fused to  send  England  troops,  to  aid  her 
in  a  foreign  war,  and  so  the  motherland 
resolved  to  subdue  the  naughty  children." 
The  speaker  was  a  "  formless  fairy,"  but  the 
yarn  was  a  bit  too  gigantic  for  modern  his- 
tory. 

"  Guess  you  have  confused  it  with  the 
war  in  Africa.  The  Boer  war  was  so  long- 
drawn  out  that  you  thought  it  was  the  same 
as  the  American  Revolution,"  said  a  trav- 
eller. 

A  sweet  little  English  girl  saw  that  there 
was  a  misunderstanding  of  history,  and 
meekly  suggested,  "  There  was  something 
about  stamps,  too,  which  caused  some  of  the 
trouble." 

"  Is  that  so,  something  about  stamps,  to 
cause  a  revolution?  Do  you  mean  a  stam- 
pede of  the  people,  or  simple  postage  stamps? 
Did  the  rage  for  collecting  exist  in  those 
days?"  asked  the  historian. 

Scenic  delights  caused  a  lull  in  statistics, 
till  the  bushwhacker  remarked  that  "  Amer- 


59 


A  Woman  Alone 

leans  were  wont  to  go  over  Niagara  Falls 
in  tubs!" 

The  fat  lady  from  the  West  here  lost  her 
balance,  but  remarked,  "  Australia  is  a  bit 
off  the  civilized  route,  if  such  fairy-tales 
are  credited  by  its  countrymen." 

As  we  slipped  into  a  foaming  maelstrom, 
and  eddied  and  whirled  among  towering 
rocks,  all  sparring  ceased,  and  the  fat  lady's 
eyes  dropped  out  on  her  face  and  her  wide 
mouth  stretched  as  if  to  take  in  a  tidal  wave. 
Three  men  at  the  prow  tugged  mightily  at 
the  oars,  pulling  themselves  up  on  the  cross- 
beams and  straining  at  the  oarlocks.  Two 
men  poled  us  off,  as  we  swirled  in  the  seeth- 
ing caldron.  Men  in  the  stern  drove  their 
bamboo  rods  against  the  huge  boulders.  A 
sharp  command,  a  quick  retort,  the  speedy 
stroke,  the  strained  eye,  proved  the  desper- 
ate effort  of  the  men  to  keep  us  from  the 
whirling  rapids.  Bang!  broke  the  waves, 
and  the  scow  swung  around  to  a  monster  rock, 
and  took  a  shipload  of  water.  Swamping 
or  splitting  would  soon  end  our  troubles  in 
the  wild  stream.  There  would  be  no  reck- 
oning of  results  by  him  who  was  thrown  to 
the  mercies  of  the  torrent  and  banged  on  the 
crags  below.  Mattings  were  useless  against 

60 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

beetling  waves  which  drenched  us  with  their 
spray.  We  were  the  tossed-about  toy  of  Na- 
ture. She  would  buffet  us  well,  for  daring 
her  frenzied  mood. 

But  the  oarsmen  were  crafty,  and  out  of 
the  wild  abyss  we  steered,  to  catch  breath 
for  a  few  peaceful  seconds,  while  a  native 
swabbed  the  boat,  and  we  gloried  in  the  dis- 
tant hills.  Then  we  leaped  into  another 
wild  chute  of  seething  water,  and  renewed 
the  fight  with  the  breakers,  drifting  to  the 
jagged  rocks,  and  whirling  in  the  dizzying 
rapids.  We  swung  through  alive,  while  the 
shapeless  Australian  and  the  obese  West- 
erner, in  a  friendship  born  of  the  nearness 
to  tragic  death,  clung  to  each  other  in  mute 
despair.  Again,  they  swung  apart,  in  eager 
effort  to  ballast  the  boat.  It  was  an  hour  of 
sensations  and  thrills,  filled  with  experiences 
which  made  time  seem  eternity.  Then  we 
moored  at  the  tea-house,  picturesquely  set 
among  flowers  and  foliage,  which  border 
the  wild  river. 

The  Wonderful  Wrestlers  of  Japan 

In  the  days  of  Bible  story  came  the 
throngs  to  the  river  to  be  baptized.  To-day, 

61 


A  Woman  Alone 

Kioto's  river-bed  is  the  wrestler's  play- 
ground. A  thousand  natives  squatted  in  the 
large  circle  of  the  thatched  tent,  which  was 
percolated  by  a  glimmer  of  sunlight.  For- 
eigners paid  extra  for  uncomfortable  chairs, 
on  an  inclined  plane,  a  concession  to  civili- 
zation which  sent  the  victim  sliding  at  the 
most  thrilling  moment.  Wrestlers  who  had 
won  fame  and  glory  before  admiring  throngs 
in  the  winter  bouts  at  Tokio,  came  for  the 
May  season  at  Kioto,  when  the  tournament 
was  held  by  the  Athletic  Association,  whose 
colours,  a  royal  purple  with  white  crest, 
draped  the  central  stand.  In  two  opposite 
corners  sat  the  staid  judges,  ancient  worthies, 
now  passe  in  the  art,  who  looked  coldly  on 
the  young  aspirants,  and  longed  to  give  the 
youngsters  many  a  point,  had  they  not  been 
cruelly  shelved  from  the  ring.  Outside  the 
other  corners  were  large  tubs  of  water,  with 
long  wooden  dippers,  where  adversaries  re- 
freshed themselves  before  the  fight.  Pack- 
ages of  tissue-paper,  hanging  above,  served 
as  handkerchiefs  or  towels. 

With  a  sepulchral  wail,  and  the  air  of  an 
undertaker  at  a  funeral,  the  ringmaster 
called  the  opponents.  In  dreary  monotone 
he  applauded  their  pugilistic  powers,  and 

62 


\ 


A   MOST    DISTINGUISHED    WRESTLER    OF    JAPAN 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

from  either  side  sprang  a  giant,  naked,  ex- 
cept for  a  purple  loin  cloth  and  a  fringe  of 
stiff,  silk  spikes,  which  bristled  like  quills 
when  the  battle  raged.  His  hair,  gathered 
to  a  war-lock  at  the  top,  was  tied  with  a 
cord  above  which  it  fluttered  an  inch,  like 
the  ruffled  feathers  of  a  fighting  cock. 

On  the  stage,  each  antagonist  planted  his 
hands  firmly  on  his  knees,  stretched  to  a 
base  like  the  Colossus  of  Rhodes,  lifted  in 
turn  each  leg  to  the  highest  pitch,  and 
slammed  it  down  with  a  thud.  The  extraor- 
dinary gesture  seemed  a  weighty  threat. 
Then  the  men  faced  each  other,  squatting 
on  their  heels,  and  glowering  into  each 
other's  eyes,  like  a  couple  of  game  roosters. 
After  intense  seconds  of  bated  breath  and 
desperate  scowls,  one  flew  at  the  other  in 
fury,  and,  if  the  other  was  in  no  mood  for 
war,  the  battle  was  off,  and  they  retired  to 
a  corner  to  spit  and  drink,  to  blow  the  nose 
and  mop  themselves  down  with  tissue-paper. 

Such  was  the  farcical  prelude  of  the  play. 
Americans  would  have  cried  "  Go  ahead. 
No  muffing.  Play  ball."  But  Japanese  life 
is  not  strenuous,  and  the  patient  people  had 
time  and  to  spare,  and  all  this  was  stage 
etiquette,  which  added  to  the  dignity.  Fi- 

63 


A   Woman  Alone 

nally  the  contestants  made  a  grab,  and 
wheeled  about  in  frenzy.  A  thump  in  the 
body  and  a  slap  in  the  face  seemed  the 
proper  antic,  and  a  desperate  dig  for  the 
line  of  fringe  despoiled  a  man  of  his  spikes. 
If  the  breech-cloth  itself  were  dislodged, 
there  was  a  stay  of  proceedings  till  the  man 
was  properly  tied  up.  As  the  heroes  buf- 
feted and  clinched,  the  ringman  capered 
about  like  a  maniac,  giving  sharp,  staccato 
notes  on  two  keys,  which  meant,  "  Take  care, 
take  care,  take  care,"  that  they  should  not 
step  out  of  the  ring.  The  ringman  had  no 
fancy  that  a  wrestler  should  collapse  on  his 
hands,  and  he  would  call  a  draw  at  the  most 
exciting  point  in  the  battle,  if  the  combat- 
ants seemed  winded.  To  throw  the  opponent, 
or  push  him  from  the  ring,  was  each  man's 
aim,  and  in  wild  moments  the  two  stood 
clinched  in  fierce  struggle,  and  neither 
gained  an  inch.  Their  brawny  backs,  raised 
in  knots  of  muscle,  looked  like  the  roots  of 
gnarled  oaks.  There  were  moments  of  tre- 
mendous pose,  when  the  two  giants  clung 
moveless,  with  held  breath,  neither  giving 
up  his  grip  nor  being  able  to  dislodge  his 
man.  Then,  by  a  quick  and  nimble  trick, 
a  victim  would  go  spinning  over  the  line, 

64 


THE    PRELUDE    TO    A    WRESTLING    BOUT 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

or  take  a  tumble  into  the  audience.  They 
were  good-natured  in  defeat  and  modest  in 
victory,  as  they  strode  down  the  aisles  to 
their  dens,  while  once  more  the  manager 
waved  his  wand,  and  wailed  the  triumph 
of  the  coming  heroes. 

During  four  captivating  hours  we  watched 
these  giants  of  Japan.  The  lucky  rikmen 
had  been  hired  by  the  day,  they  had  bowled 
us  five  short  minutes,  and  their  entree  was 
paid  by  their  patrons  to  Japan's  great  na- 
tional show.  Little  brown  boys,  who  were 
aspiring  athletes,  bared  their  hard  chests, 
and  spread  themselves  with  pride,  to  prove 
their  probability  of  future  fame  and  prowess. 
For  centuries,  the  profession  has  been 
honoured  in  the  empire,  and,  so  soon  as  a 
boy  develops  any  aptitude,  he  is  set  apart 
for  a  trained  wrestler.  Often  the  glory  of 
success  descends  with  the  ancestral  name, 
and  is  a  goodly  heritage  and  tradition  of 
old  families,  so  that  the  name  is  a  synonym 
of  renown  among  the  brotherhood.  The  code 
of  etiquette  is  most  exacting,  and  details 
which  seem  a  burlesque  to  the  foreigner 
are  prime  essentials  in  the  ring.  When  we 
consider  the  national  sport  of  Spain,  loath- 
some and  blood-curdling,  revolting  to  all 

65 


A  Woman  Alone 

decency,  we  feel  that  pagan  Japan  has  a 
simple  pastime  which  ennobles  and  exalts 
its  people. 

Like  dessert  to  a  good  dinner,  the  great 
champions  were  reserved  for  the  finals,  and 
number  three  advanced  for  his  test.  He 
was  a  moving  mountain  of  adipose,  tipping 
the  scales  at  365  pounds,  and  we  wondered 
how  such  a  mass  of  fat  could  show  agility. 
His  girdle  measured  two  yards,  and  he 
could  not  see  far  enough  over  himself  to 
sight  the  silk  fringe  below  the  welts  of  fat 
that  rolled  about  his  belt.  His  opponent  was 
little,  quick,  and  wiry,  a  muscular  pigmy, 
beside  this  giant.  We  wondered  how  in  the 
name  of  all  Japanese  gymnastics,  Fatty 
could  reach  over  his  ponderous  self  and  find 
the  fellow.  It  seemed  a  case  of  the  elephant 
and  the  flea.  The  dwarf  walked  around  the 
perambulating  mountain,  sized  him  up,  as 
if  to  say,  "  What  am  I  up  against? "  and 
decided  to  buck  up  against  the  monster. 
Fatty  simply  shoved  his  great  self  against 
the  little  chap  and  pushed  him  off  the  stage. 

The  second  champion  weighed  280  pounds, 
and  quickly  disposed  of  his  victim.  The 
first  champion  towered  like  Goliath,  six  feet 
seven  inches  in  the  air,  and  by  a  few  speedy 

66 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

strokes  tucked  his  daring  opponent  under 
his  arm.  The  people  thundered  their  ap- 
plause, as  the  name  and  fame  of  these  con- 
querors were  wide  in  the  land.  All  Japan 
knows  and  honours  the  great  champions,  who 
throw  their  fellow  men.  The  wrestlers  are 
supported  partly  by  gate  receipts,  and  es- 
pecially by  patrons,  who  are  very  generous 
to  their  favourites.  The  natural  result  fol- 
lows, and  the  wrestlers  have  no  pride  about 
begging.  If  an  athlete  spots  a  friend  among 
the  spectators  he  is  very  sure  to  "  touch " 
him,  and  quickly  our  little  guide  dodged  his 
"  friend,"  the  wrestler,  that  he  might  retain 
his  purse. 

With  wails  and  moans  of  high  falsetto, 
the  annunciator  declared  the  next  day's 
entries.  The  harrowing  howls  awed  the  na- 
tive audience,  and  we  waited  for  the  climax, 
promised  in  the  "  apron  procession."  To 
the  novice,  a  line  of  fat  men  and  tall  men, 
richly  gowned  in  aprons  only,  is  a  unique 
sight,  especially  when  nothing  but  cords  and 
tassels  dangle  in  the  back.  The  men  ap- 
proached the  stage  from  two  opposite  lines, 
wearing  apron  fronts  of  glorious  colour,  rich 
brown,  brilliant  red,  deep  green,  old  gold. 
There  were  magnificent  shades  and  borders, 

67 


A  Woman  Alone 

fringe,  cord,  and  tassels  of  dazzling  gold. 
Many  a  gorgeous  apron  was  woven  with  a 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  bullion,  to  give 
this  golden  shimmer.  The  fat  old  lady  from 
the  East  promptly  dubbed  them  "  portieres," 
and  added,  "  Such  a  pity,  that  the  portieres 
could  not  hang  all  around."  But,  though 
each  frontispiece  had  cost  a  fortune,  there 
were  greedy  people  who  did  not  have 
enough.  The  wrestlers  bowed  low,  on  the 
stage,  to  their  admiring  friends,  and  they 
did  look  a  trifle  queer  to  the  stranger,  as 
they  stalked  back  to  their  lairs,  clad  in  a 
front  rainbow  and  a  wave  of  gold  embroid- 
ery, with  a  little  stick  fringe  to  cover  the 
nude  simplicity  of  the  rear.  As  Fatty 
waddled  away,  gorgeous  cords  and  tassels 
rolled  about  to  find  a  resting-place  on  his 
ridges  of  pork,  and  I  wondered  how  a  man 
of  his  proportions  could  raise  muscle  enough, 
enmeshed  in  the  fat,  to  proclaim  himself  an 
athlete,  since  our  notion  of  that  character  is 
anti-fat  and  sinewy  frame. 


68 


A    WRESTLER    IN    HIS    STATE    APRON 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN   OVERLAND   JOURNEY 
Economic  Travel 

EVERYBODY  was  in  line  and  nobody  miss- 
ing, bootblacks,  waiters,  porters,  a  solid 
phalanx,  waited  for  a  fee  as  I  left  the  beauti- 
ful Kioto  hotel.  The  creature  who  had  been 
least  in  evidence  was  pushed  to  the  front 
and  introduced  as  "  Your  bath-boy,  madam," 
but  my  hand  was  already  in  my  pocket  for 
his  profit,  and  showers  of  blessings  followed 
my  showering  coin,  as  I  rolled  away.  How 
I  wished  myself  a  grand  duchess,  to  scatter 
bountifully  of  my  largess,  for  when  it  re- 
quires so  little  to  make  the  humble  happy, 
one  ought  to  give  that  little  freely. 

I  was  in  Japan  to  see  and  not  shirk,  to 
enjoy  the  natives  and  to  know  their  ways, 
therefore  I  abjured  the  first-class  wagon. 
Exclusive  Americans  travelled  thus,  and  I 

69 


A  Woman  Alone 

had  not  come  to  Japan  to  study  them,  so  I 
booked  with  the  humbler  people,  third  class, 
because  there  was  not  any  fourth,  and  I  was 
with  the  rank  and  file  of  the  country.  It  was 
always  smoky,  and  generally  crowded,  and 
the  seats  were  hard  and  narrow,  but  here  was 
life,  and  it  was  not  bad,  and  I  decidedly  liked 
it.  Fat  babies  from  over  their  mammas' 
shoulders  grinned  and  cooed,  and  tugged  at 
my  plumes;  perhaps  my  next  neighbour 
threw  back  his  kimono  and  scratched  his 
bare  leg,  far  above  the  knee,  but  it  seemed 
so  natural,  when  the  leg  needed  scratching, 
that  I  did  not  object. 

An  Attempted  Theft 

The  successful  traveller  aims  to  adapt 
himself  to  the  ways  of  the  country,  and  I 
only  questioned  them,  when  a  suave  chap  in 
long  sleeves  tried  to  relieve  me  of  my  watch. 
Even  the  delights  of  Japan  might  end  in 
robbery,  as  in  other  lands.  He  leaned  across, 
to  get  the  view,  and  incidentally,  the  watch, 
for  I  felt  a  sharp  tugging  at  my  belt.  I 
grabbed  for  the  chain  and  lifted  his  hand 
directly  from  the  guard.  He  gazed  on  me 
with  superb  coolness,  then  stared  into  space 

70 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

with  the  abstraction  of  a  Buddhist  priest; 
but  already  he  had  cut  a  strand  in  the  chain, 
and  a  little  lighter  touch  would  have  sepa- 
rated the  watch  and  its  owner  for  ever.  Ten 
years  ago,  a  watch  was  almost  unknown  to 
the  native,  but  now  every  man  and  many  a 
woman  carries  a  ticker  within  the  obi,  often 
enshrined  in  a  chamois  bag. 

Native  Manners  on  the  Railway 

Second  class  was  softer  for  the  hard  trip 
of  sixteen  hours  between  Kioto  and  Yoko- 
hama, and  the  centre  aisle  had  a  long  seat 
on  each  side,  like  a  tram.  Only  elegant 
and  wealthy  Japs  could  travel  so,  and  to 
watch  them  was  a  pleasure.  Such  profusion 
of  politeness  in  parting!  Each  friend 
doubled  up  at  right  angles,  and  watched  the 
other  from  the  tail  of  his  eye,  to  see  if  the 
vis-a-vis  continued  to  bend.  They  flopped 
again  and  again,  doing  the  jackknife  act  a 
half-dozen  times,  resting  the  hands  on  the 
knees,  and  bathed  in  sweet  smiles,  as  they 
poured  out  a  sequence  of  compliments  and 
good  wishes. 

One  dear  old  couple  filled  the  aisle  in 
these  double-up  antics  and  chattered  their 


A  Woman  Alone 

blessings  as  they  blocked  the  way,  and  all 
travel  was  suspended,  till  the  ankle-deep 
bows  were  ended.  When  her  little  man  dis- 
appeared for  a  time,  the  old  lady  stretched 
full  length  and  fell  asleep.  When  he  found 
his  domain  thus  preempted  and  populated, 
and  his  rights  infringed,  he  looked  dismayed 
and  scratched  his  head.  There  were  three 
ways  out  of  the  trouble.  He  could  take  the 
vacant  seat  opposite,  put  his  luggage  on  the 
floor,  or  wake  the  little  lady.  The  last 
course  best  became  his  dignity,  so  he  pulled 
her  leg,  pinched  her  feet,  and  tickled  her 
toes  to  signify  his  presence.  She  opened  her 
sleepy  little  eyes,  realized  the  wrong  she  had 
done,  drew  herself  up  close  like  a  bundle 
of  cramps,  and  the  loving  couple  settled 
down  in  content. 

They  all  carried  handsome  rugs  to  pro- 
tect the  kimonos,  and  often  they  first  spread 
a  newspaper  to  protect  the  rug.  They  were 
beautifully  gowned,  and  many  boasted  a 
shining  solitaire.  Two  crested  ladies  in  soft 
silk  underdress  wore  dark  cloth  over  kimo- 
nos. They  fished  in  the  depths  for  pipe 
and  tobacco,  and  tugged  serenely  at  the  three 
little  puffs  which  the  pipe  held.  Then  pat, 
pat,  pat,  they  knocked  out  the  ashes.  Next 

72 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

they  tried  the  musical  mysteries  of  a  mouth- 
piece. There  was  a  prolonged  upper  note, 
with  a  sudden  jerk,  and  the  instrument  was 
switched  to  the  other  end  of  the  mouth.  I 
smiled  in  sympathy  with  the  operatic  effect, 
and  the  ladies  giggled  and  fell  on  each 
other's  necks  in  weighty  embarrassment 

For  hours  little  women  knelt  at  the  win- 
dow, intent  on  the  fleeting  landscape,  and 
others  curled  their  feet  on  the  seat,  and 
dropped  their  tired  heads  on  their  arms. 
Rows  of  wooden  clogs  ran  down  the  aisle. 
The  semi-European,  wrapped  in  a  rig  of 
all  nations,  doffed  his  foreign  shoes,  and 
doubled  up,  au  naturel. 

A  loving  couple,  done  up  in  one  rug, 
slept  soundly,  feet  to  feet.  When  he  decided 
to  change  his  kimono,  he  waked  up  his  wife. 
She  dreamily  dove  in  the  carpet-bag,  where 
numerous  lovely  gowns  were  stored,  and  he 
did  himself  up  like  a  mummy  in  a  fourth 
layer  of  elegance.  She  passed  him  an  air- 
pillow,  in  dainty  silk  cover.  He  returned  it, 
and  I  wondered  what  was  the  matter  with 
the  wind-bag.  Air  was  lacking.  She  blew 
it  up  and  returned  it.  His  lordship  conde- 
scended to  put  it  under  his  head  and  fall 
asleep.  Her  service  was  not  sad  nor  perfunc- 

73 


A  Woman  Alone 

tory.  She  cared  for  him  as  if  he  was  her 
infant.  This  was  why  she  existed.  It  was 
all  part  of  the  legal  compact  called  mar- 
riage, which  may  be  broken  at  any  time,  by 
either  party  who  is  tired  of  the  contract. 

The  car  was  soon  strewn  with  beer  bottles, 
milk  bottles,  and  various  debris,  and  hourly 
a  boy  with  a  scratchy  broom  gave  a 
sweep-up,  as  the  cuspidors  spilled  over  with 
burnt  matches,  cigarette  stumps,  and  ashes. 
Expectorating  was  all  done  from  the  car 
window. 

Chow  was  bought  at  the  stations,  in  wooden 
boxes  of  rice,  squid,  beans,  cold  potato, 
everything  dear  to  the  native  palate.  Rows 
of  teapots  ran  down  the  car,  and  venders 
were  strapped  with  trays  of  earthen  teapots 
and  cups,  and  the  travellers  indulged  in  the 
native  beverage,  and  giggled  delightedly  in 
relating  funny  yarns.  Rivers  of  left-over 
tea  ran  the  length  of  the  car,  and  the  tea- 
pots danced  a  merry  jig. 

One  man  had  brought  a  gargling  appara- 
tus, and  regularly  knelt  at  the  window  to  rinse 
his  mouth  and  squirt  a  mighty  stream  at  the 
surrounding  country,  where  coolies  stood 
knee-deep  in  water,  turning  up  rich  mud  and 
slime.  Every  foot  of  ground  was  utilized  in 

74 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  wee  patches,  square,  oblong,  triangular, 
crescent,  which  fitted  into  the  space.  Rice 
and  barley  were  plentiful,  and  beyond  the 
low-lying  farms  were  thatched  huts,  which 
grew  roofs  of  grass.  The  valleys  were 
walled  by  towering  hills  of  maples,  pines, 
and  cherries. 

A  Vain  Attempt  to  "Hustle  the  East" 

A  Japanese  train  never  runs,  and  three 
hours  of  slow  trot  landed  us  at  Nagoya, 
memorable  for  my  first  and  last  attempt  at 
American  rush.  "  Make  the  rikman  hurry. 
I  have  a  date,  and  can't  wait  here  all  day," 
I  said,  impatiently.  The  boss  blazed  like 
a  fiery  dragon.  "  Veil,  you  get  so  mad,  you 
no  can  wait  for  dis,  you  go  fine  nodder 
riksha,"  and  I  answered  meekly:  "Dear 
friend,  you  do  not  know  me.  I  am  not  the 
least  bit  mad.  This  is  only  a  gentle  Ameri- 
can hustle.  If  you  want  me  to  be  real  mad, 
I  will  show  you  the  difference."  "  Veil,  you 
vas  almos7  mad,"  he  insisted.  "  You  seem 
jus'  like  mad  when  you  say,  '  No  can  wait, 
mus'  have  riksha  quick,  hurry  up.' '  I 
learned  my  lesson  and  I  always  waited,  for 
it  was  useless  "  to  hustle  the  East." 

75 


A  IV oman  Alone 
Nagoya's  Old  Castle 

Far  in  the  distance  one  sees  the  golden 
dolphins  on  Nagoya's  castle  peaks.  They 
are  covered  with  netting  to  defy  the  birds, 
and  their  tails  turn  up,  while  their  heads 
turn  down,  as  if  they  were  biting  a  piece 
of  the  roof.  One  gilded  monster  went  to 
the  Paris  Exposition,  and  was  shipwrecked 
and  drowned  on  his  return.  Machinery 
brought  him  up,  and  now  he  rests  on  the 
castle  bold,  defying  the  elements.  The  deep, 
wide  moats  and  solid  walls  were  a  strong 
defence  before  great  guns  could  drive  their 
shot  and  shell  through  miles  of  space  to  shat- 
ter solid  ramparts.  Then  the  visiting  Sho- 
gun,  in  his  higher  room,  received  the 
Daimyo  and  lesser  lights,  who  knelt  in  the 
room  which  was  built  a  foot  lower. 

The  castle-keep  holds  fascinating  mystery. 
Breath  failed  and  bones  were  tired  long  ere 
I  reached  the  top  of  that  five-storied  stone 
structure  of  Egyptian  darkness  and  steep 
wooden  stairways,  horrible  ladders  to  climb 
with  aid  of  a  clumsy  rail.  There  were 
dreadful  "  oubliettes "  and  trap-doors,  down 
which  the  victims  fell,  to  be  for  ever  for- 
gotten. One  could  people  the  place  with 

76 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

phantoms  and  wrecks  of  the  past.  The  keep 
would  make  a  big  granary,  and  with  its 
"  well  of  the  golden  water,"  the  troops  could 
long  hold  out,  —  in  olden  days.  In  a  few 
fatal  seconds  the  firing  of  our  modern  guns 
would  blast  the  giant  mass  to  flinders. 

A  Native  Picnic 

Rikky  took  me  to  a  famous  garden,  where 
a  club  a  hundred  strong  was  having  a  picnic. 
Their  gay  gowns  of  red,  yellow,  green,  blue, 
orange,  scarlet,  purple,  glanced  like  rain- 
bows in  the  shrubbery,  under  the  arched 
bridges,  in  the  boats,  at  the  arbours,  among 
the  flowers,  and  contrasted  with  the  purple 
iris  which  fringed  the  banks.  The  men 
toyed  and  capered  with  the  giddy  geisha  girls 
until  they  entered  the  large  hall,  which  was 
ranged  with  red  mats  about  a  hollow  square, 
where  each  man  had  his  smoking-set  and 
box  of  chow. 

Eagerly  they  urged  the  foreign  lady  to  the 
banquet,  placed  hot  embers,  and  mourned 
that  I  did  not  smoke,  but  I  must  accept  the 
cigarettes.  They  knew  I  could  not  eat  the 
squid  and  rice,  so  my  special  host  picked 
out  his  largest,  fattest  orange  slices,  and 

77 


A  Woman  Alone 

passed  them  on  the  chop-sticks.  He  poured 
me  sake,  but,  alasl  it  was  hot,  and  cold  sake 
is  so  delicious  1  They  brought  a  long  bottle 
and  deep  glasses.  I  thought  it  was  cham- 
pagne, and  greedily  accepted.  Buncoed 
again!  It  was  only  native  beer  I  I  drank, 
and  when  my  vis-a-vis  asked  for  the  glass, 
as  I  was  not  up  on  etiquette,  I  thought  it 
was  to  be  refilled.  Promptly  I  passed  it, 
without  draining.  Terrible  faux  pas!  My 
host  looked  sadly  in  the  depths,  consulted 
a  neighbour,  filled  and  drank,  and  drained 
the  last  drop  into  the  waste  bowl,  refilled, 
and  passed  me  the  foaming  cup.  That  was 
friendship,  that  was  form,  to  drink  from  the 
same  glass. 

Would  I  like  music  and  the  dance?  He 
touched  the  strings  of  the  koto,  and  pointed 
to  the  geishas.  Old  music  women  mounted 
the  stage  and  touched  off  minor  notes  of  their 
instruments,  and  the  girls  whirled  about  like 
gaudy  butterflies,  fluttered  their  fans,  and 
stamped  their  feet,  and  waved  their  wings 
in  airy  revolutions.  This  was  high  art,  and 
rounds  of  applause  went  up  from  the  club. 

A  dark-robed  maid  pinched  my  arm  and 
pulled  my  sleeve  to  tell  me  to  go  home. 
Amid  a  shower  of  bows,  I  dragged  myself 

78 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

from  the  floor,  and  was  set  on  a  mat  in  a 
dark  room  below,  and  given  more  tea  and 
cake,  as  they  seemed  to  think  there  was  no 
limit  to  my  eating  capacity.  I  devoutly 
kneeled,  scraped  my  head  on  the  floor,  and 
bowed  myself  away,  wondering  where  there 
was  a  club  in  America  which  would  so  cor- 
dially have  received  a  Japanese  woman  who 
blundered  into  its  private  picnic  on  an  an- 
nual festival. 

A  Night  in  a  Wayside  Inn 

At  night  I  landed  alone  at  a  hamlet  where 
there  was  no  word  of  English.  A  coolie 
carried  my  bag  a  few  feet,  slung  it  to  an- 
other, and  demanded  his  fee.  "  Oh,  no, 
carry  all  way.  I  no  pay  now,  pay  at  hotel," 
I  said.  He  understood,  sheepishly  grinned, 
and  picked  up  the  bag. 

At  the  threshold  of  the  inn  the  entire 
family  pounced  upon  me  for  my  shoe  leather. 
It  was  a  clear  case  of  "  pulling  the  leg."  I 
was  fast  being  distorted  and  disjointed,  so 
I  indicated  that  I  would  do  my  own  undress- 
ing. The  shoes  were  hidden  away,  and  I 
pattered  down  the  hall  to  the  most  remark- 
able hotel  room,  for  emptiness  and  cleanli- 

79 


A  Woman  Alone 

ness,  which  I  had  ever  entered.  It  contained 
absolutely  nothing  but  the  spotless  white 
matting  on  the  floor.  As  a  concession  to  my 
foreign  ways,  they  brought  a  chair  and 
table. 

I  proceeded  to  my  usual  method  of  indi- 
cating famine,  by  placing  one  hand  on  my 
stomach  and  the  other  on  my  mouth.  Here 
was  a  case  where  ordinary  "  signs  and 
omens "  failed.  They  took  the  feat  as  dra- 
matic attitudinizing,  and  doubled  up  with 
mirth.  Then  I  tried  high  art,  and  cackled 
like  a  hen,  I  thought.  They  did  not  rec- 
ognize the  barn-yard  note,  and  fell  into  more 
merriment.  I  felt  very  much  like  a  con- 
tinuous vaudeville,  but  made  another  ven- 
ture, this  time  in  the  realm  of  objective  art, 
and  drew  a  hen,  as  I  supposed,  with  eggs, 
as  these  seemed  simple,  natural  food  in  the 
country.  But  they  did  not  recognize  the 
bird,  and  indulged  in  more  convulsions. 
Certainly  the  professional  clown  never  ex- 
tracted more  spontaneous  applause  from  his 
admiring  audience.  At  last  I  hit  upon  the 
word  "  omelet."  They  knew  its  meaning, 
and  they  flew  off  to  save  my  life.  In  a 
moment  the  procession  pattered  back,  wav- 
ing a  plate  and  chop-sticks,  with  a  slippery, 

80 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

semi-fluid,  semi-liquid  concoction,  which 
they  proceeded  to  watch  me  eat.  I  could 
not  wiggle  the  sticks,  and  the  omelet  was 
fast  running  away  from  itself.  I  thought 
I  must  drink  it,  when  there  was  a  voluble 
discussion,  and  the  procession  ran  off,  to 
return  brandishing  a  soup-spoon,  evidently 
left  by  a  foreigner.  So  I  spooned  away  my 
omelet,  while  the  little  girls  leaned  their 
elbows  on  the  table  and  discussed  my  finery. 
Then  I  attempted  to  indicate  fatigue. 
"  Tired,  sleepy,"  I  said,  as  I  laid  my  face  in 
my  hands  and  drew  long  breaths.  This  was 
a  simpler  proposition,  and  they  dragged  in 
the  heavy  futans,  spangled  with  peacocks 
and  gold  thread.  They  said  a  gentle  "  sayo- 
nara,"  and  pattered  away,  leaving  me  alone 
with  the  bedquilts.  In  this  sequestered  cor- 
ner, queerly  enough,  there  were  electric 
lights  and  bells.  The  partitions  were  slid- 
ing screens  of  rice-paper,  naturally  without 
lock  or  key,  and  about  a  third  way  up  from 
the  floor  ran  a  transparent  pane,  so  that  the 
occupant  was  clearly  visible  to  any  one  pass- 
ing. I  placed  my  letter  of  credit  under  my 
pillow,  and  the  dirk  which  I  had  bought 
on  Teapot  Hill,  resolved  that  whoever 
sought  the  letter  would  get  the  dirk  first  1 

Si 


A  Woman  Alone 

Not  a  wink  of  sleep  was  in  store  for  the 
foreigner.  Across  the  way,  the  natives  were 
giving  a  grand  dinner,  and  "  there  was  the 
sound  of  revelry  by  night,"  as  the  little 
nesans  pattered  to  and  fro  with  trays  of  sake, 
fish,  and  rice,  and  "  the  fun  grew  fast  and 
furious "  as  the  night  wore  on.  The  sea 
dashed  on  the  beach  below,  and  the  rats 
scampered  and  raced  in  the  ceiling.  Every 
hour  the  old  watchman  slippered  through 
the  house  with  his  lantern,  and  gazed  guard- 
edly at  my  transparent  pane.  Every  time 
he  came  I  expected  to  be  robbed  and  mur- 
dered and  thrown  into  the  sounding  sea,  and 
every  time  he  left  I  was  safer  than  before. 
With  the  late  trains  came  new  arrivals,  with 
sliding  of  screens,  scuffling  of  feet,  and 
sound  of  voices. 

Toward  morn,  I  sat  upright  in  bed,  rub- 
bing my  eyes.  Was  it  nightmare,  or  was  it 
reality  that  carried  me  back  to  childhood's 
day  and  to  Sunday-school  hours?  It  was 
reality,  and  I  was  sane.  The  notes  of  a 
wheezy,  squeaky  accordion  piped  out  on  the 
air  the  strong,  familiar  strain,  "  Nearer,  my 
God,  to  Thee."  "  Would  you  were  nearer 
to  God,  and  farther  from  me,"  was  my  first 
thought.  They  followed  the  tune  with  that 

82 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

other  placid  hymn,  "  He  Leadeth  Me,  O 
Blessed  Thought,"  and,  although  the  mu- 
sical natives  probably  associated  no  thought 
with  the  notes,  murder  and  robbery  seemed 
farther  away  as  the  stranger  listened  to  the 
sacred  concert.  Before  morning  sharp  dys- 
pepsia followed  on  the  heels  of  the  nocturnal 
orgy,  and  the  feasters  emitted  grunts  and 
groans,  while  one  rioter  made  a  dreamy 
attack  on  his  neighbour,  which  the  victim 
evidently  resented,  and  the  chorus  of  wails 
suggested  Welsh  rarebit  at  the  banquet  board. 
Before  daylight  they  were  all  volubly  dis- 
cussing the  party,  while  the  midgets  ran 
away  with  the  rolls  of  quilts.  As  I  trundled 
back  my  screens,  the  neighbours  across  the 
way  were  dramatically  waving  their  angel 
sleeves,  flourishing  their  towels,  and  bran- 
dishing tooth-brushes.  There  was  no  water 
in  the  bare  room,  and  every  one  washed  at 
the  public  sink  in  the  hall,  an  immaculate 
wooden  trough,  with  a  brass  basin  polished 
to  the  reflection  of  a  mirror.  A  stack  of 
brushes  shredded  to  fibres  at  the  end  were 
used  as  ear  swabs  by  the  cleanly  natives. 
It  was  at  this  point  in  her  toilet  that  a 
prim  maiden  school-teacher  from  U.  S.  A. 
felt  a  shadow  steal  up  to  her  side,  and  turned 

83 


A  Woman  Alone 

to  find  a  gentle  Japanese  clad  simply  in  a 
placid  smile,  waiting  patiently  for  his  chance 
to  bathe.  The  lady  was  unused  to  the  nude 
simplicity  of  the  Orient,  and  ran  shrieking 
to  her  room,  leaving  the  bewildered  man  to 
cogitate  on  her  unseemly  haste. 

I  pattered  back  and  spooned  away  another 
omelet,  as  that  was  the  one  word  we  had 
in  common,  and  I  scuffled  to  the  office  to 
pay  my  bill  and  scatter  a  few  shekels,  which 
were  received  with  an  abandonment  of 
mirth,  as  the  recipients  again  doubled  up 
in  convulsions.  This  was  a  truly  native  inn, 
where  the  people  were  unspoiled  by  the  tour- 
ist, and  they  had  not  learned  the  meaning 
of  a  fee.  They  could  not  restrain  their 
amusement,  but  all  had  been  courteous  and 
kindly.  I  alone  had  thought  of  robbery  and 
murder.  The  steel  of  my  dirk  glittered  with 
shame  as  it  slipped  into  the  sheath. 

Miyanoshita,  among  the  Mountains 

Sturdy  pushman  and  pullman  bowled  me 
through  the  forest  and  among  mountain 
passes.  Tumbling  waters  tore  madly  down 
the  steeps  of  clean-cut  gorges  and  deep 
divides.  Cascades,  cataracts,  waterfalls,  tore 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

away  in  a  triumph  of  joy.  The  birds  in 
the  thicket  poured  forth  such  floods  of  delir- 
ious music  that  the  butterflies  stopped  in 
their  chase  to  listen. 

The  riksha  climbed  up  and  up,  to  beauti- 
ful Miyanoshita,  in  the  heart  of  a  hot  spring 
region,  which  is  the  fashionable  resort  for 
foreign  gentry,  where  the  embassies  make 
a  popular  outing.  Fugiya  Hotel  is  famed  as 
being  the  loveliest  house  in  all  Japan.  It 
is  faultlessly  clean,  and  its  service  is  entirely 
by  little  nesans,  who  flit  about  in  the  bright- 
est gowns,  and  seem  like  gay  bouquets  flash- 
ing in  our  midst.  Usually  the  hotel  service 
in  Japan  is  by  boys,  though  one  sometimes 
finds  a  mixture  of  the  sexes.  The  propri- 
etor's daughter  had  passed  five  years  in  the 
French  convent  of  Tokio,  and  was  at  home 
with  three  languages.  She  stowed  me  away 
in  the  daintiest  den,  and  coddled  me  ten- 
derly. "  I  will  send  up  toast  and  tea,  then 
you  can  have  a  bath,  and  go  to  bed  at  once," 
she  said,  and  it  was  hard  to  persuade  her 
that  I  had  not  come  so  far  for  a  midday 
nap.  The  shiny  wooden  well  of  the  bath 
boasted  three  faucets  and  a  shower,  and  dust 
and  fatigue  were  soon  rubbed  away. 

Below   the    green   slopes   of   the   cleanly 

85 


A  Woman  Alone 

hotel  the  street  was  lined  with  miniature 
shops  of  toys  and  furs  and  curios.  I  dragged 
lofty  brass  candlesticks  from  Matsuzawa's 
hoard  of  helmets,  swords,  and  ivory  carvings. 
Kitai  told  with  naivete  the  history  of  his 
English.  Five  years  before  he  had  begun 
the  struggle,  and  every  night  for  a  year  he 
had  been  at  the  Tokio  mission  with  a  hun- 
dred other  boys  for  reading,  writing,  and 
conversation.  Amazingly  good  was  his  Eng- 
lish, given  with  the  universal  testimony, 
"  learned  at  the  mission."  Here  at  least 
was  a  raison  d'etre  for  the  missions,  to  teach 
English  and  to  civilize.  It  had  a  commer- 
cial value  for  the  nation,  even  though  the 
missions  did  not  convert  and  proselyte. 

The  Natives'  Love  for  Children 

When  a  little  shopman  mentioned  his  wife, 
I  asked  for  the  children,  and  learned  the 
whole  family  history.  "  Me  no  haf  got 
chillen,  me  want  very  much.  My  wife  no 
could  haf.  She  been  very  sick,  she  go  hos- 
pital, Tokio,  haf  operation,  now  she  much 
better,  she  get  very  strong,  me  hope  haf  chil- 
len very  soon."  I  suggested  that  children 
were  a  care  and  trouble,  that  his  wife  might 

86 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

not  like  the  bother,  and  he  said  in  sweet 
astonishment:  "My  wife,  she  no  tink  much 
trouble,  she  very  much  want  little  baby,  she 
tink  little  chillen  very  nice,"  and  the  speech 
revealed  two  points  in  Japanese  character, — 
the  childlike  simplicity,  by  which  the  native 
speaks  most  readily  of  all  things  natural, 
and  the  love  and  longing  for  the  little  one 
in  every  humble  home,  where  the  baby  is 
tenderly  anticipated  and  warmly  welcomed. 

Lake  Hakone 

The  trip  to  Lake  Hakone  is  the  tourist's 
delight  and  I  was  swung  aloft  in  a  wicker 
chair,  with  high  back,  broad  arms,  rest- 
basket  for  the  feet,  attached  to  bamboo  poles, 
and  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  four  natives. 
Up  the  narrow  foot-path,  down  the  steep 
descent  they  plodded,  keeping  time  with  a 
steady  step  and  frequent  grunt.  Each  thud 
and  jounce  struck  home  to  my  stomach,  as 
the  lofty  chariot  swayed.  ".An  ocean  swell 
and  a  seasick  voyage,"  I  thought.  "  Cuish," 
they  all  sang,  as  a  signal  to  swing  me  to  the 
other  shoulder.  From  the  thick  of  the  steep 
forest  they  marched  to  the  open  sweep  of 
valleys  green.  Half-hidden  in  the  brush- 

87 


A  Woman  Alone 

wood  was  a  dignified  Buddha,  carved  in  the 
solid  rock.  Centuries  ago  the  chisel  of  Kobe 
Daisha  cut  the  rock,  and  in  majestic  dignity 
the  god  has  guarded  the  plain  and  watched 
for  the  coming  tourist.  He  recalled  Thor- 
waldsen's  lion,  but  the  pagan  god  of  all 
wisdom  and  truth  was  a  greater  wonder, 
carved  in  the  Nippon  plain. 

Three  hours  of  swinging  and  repeated 
calls  of  "  cuish  "  brought  me  to  the  shore  of 
Lake  Hakone,  where  the  noonday  meal  was 
in  order.  It  seemed  an  insult  to  the  snowy 
heights  beyond.  But  mundane  pangs  called 
me  down  from  the  state  of  exaltation,  and 
I  ate  beneath  the  dazzling  cone  of  sacred 
Fuji,  which  only  in  recent  years  has  suf- 
fered the  polluting  step  of  woman.  The 
novice  may  confuse  mountain  peaks  and 
ridges,  but  no  one  can  mistake  Fuji,  rising 
solitary  in  its  snowy  purity  to  stand  in  solemn 
grandeur  the  monarch  of  the  country.  Dear 
to  every  native  heart  is  this  holy  height. 
Never  did  imaginative  Greek  turn  to  Olym- 
pus a  more  adoring  love  than  these  little 
people  offer  at  this  sacred  shrine.  Many  a 
weary  pilgrimage  brings  them  here  to  wor- 
ship, since  poesy  and  sentiment  are  traits 


88 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

deep-rooted   with    religion    in    the    Nippon 
nature. 

While  the  sampan  bore  me  across  the 
water,  the  tired  coolies  fell  asleep,  curled  up 
on  the  floor.  A  shivering  creature  with 
plastered  legs  was  wrapped  up  in  a  matting. 
"  Velly,  velly  col',"  said  his  chum,  as  he 
cowered  in  scant  raiment  before  the  cutting 
wind.  He  speedily  snored  away  his  trou- 
bles when  I  passed  him  an  extra  wrap. 
"  Small  money,  sake,"  cried  the  boatman, 
taking  his  tariff.  Sake  is  to  the  coolie  what 
pourboire  is  to  the  French  cocker,  or  mac- 
aroni is  to  the  Neapolitan,  and  he  grate- 
fully bowed  his  thanks. 

The  Hot  Springs  of  Ubago 

Among  nature's  wildest  freaks,  the  bearers 
bore  me  to  the  hot  springs  of  the  hamlet 
of  Ubago,  where  barrels  of  water  were  tum- 
bling into  the  tanks  of  the  little  bath-house 
sunk  in  the  hillside.  Girls  and  boys,  old 
men  and  women,  merry  maids  and  jolly 
youths,  flopped  and  splashed  and  scrubbed 
with  delight.  There  were  three  in  one  tub, 
nine  in  the  next,  and  eleven  in  the  third  by 
actual  count.  And  their  clothes  were  skin 

89 


A  Woman  Alone 

tight,  and  had  never  been  changed  since  the 
day  the  folks  were  born.  Yet  there  were 
no  tears  nor  rents,  for  not  a  shred  did  they 
wear  to  cover  Mother  Nature's  birthday 
dress,  with  which  they  entered  the  world! 
Simple  children  these,  as  happy,  if  not  as 
innocent,  as  those  in  Paradise  before  the  fall. 

We  plunged  through  a  forest  to  enter 
"  Great  Hell,"  where  nature  once  made  a 
mighty  powwow,  and  where  she  threatens, 
by  sight  and  sound,  again  to  hold  high  car- 
nival. A  wild  waste  of  rock  is  spread  over 
the  broad  region.  Volcanic  action  has 
hurled  huge  boulders  and  tossed  other  stones 
to  fragments.  Angry  forces  seething,  raging 
under  the  earth's  crust,  still  struggle  to 
escape  their  gloomy  prison.  Sulphurous 
fumes  rise  in  clouds  from  multitudinous  fis- 
sures. Warm  lava  smokes  at  the  mouths, 
and  a  roar  from  below  comes  up  like  the 
boom  of  artillery.  Fighting  forces  will  yet 
tear  the  surface  open  and  vomit  forth  the 
entrails  of  the  earth. 

Only  Shank's  mare  can  travel  on  the  slopes 
of  "  Great  Hell,"  and  I  left  the,  chariot,  to 
creep  along  the  rocky  ledges  and  stumble 
among  rolling  stones.  I  crossed  the  sulphur- 
ous streams  on  stepping-stones,  and  clung  to 

90 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  faithful  coolie,  as  I  dangled  over  the 
abyss.  Better  was  the  swinging  chair  than 
the  steep  climb  and  dizzying  descent,  and 
with  joy  I  swung  again  to  the  coolies'  shoul- 
ders. Thatched  homes  and  gardens  con- 
trasted tenderly  with  the  gloomy  region  of 
extinct  volcano.  Green  were  the  fields  and 
the  distant  range  compared  with  the  wild 
and  desert  waste.  But  first  among  the  pano- 
ramic views  of  that  changeful  day  will  stand 
for  ever  the  dazzling  purity  of  that  clear- 
cut  cone  of  snowy  Fuji,  sacred  mountain  of 
the  Nipponese. 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER  V 

A  NATIONAL  RITE 
Nikko  in  the  June  Celebration 

"  SEE  Nikko  and  die  "  is  the  motto  of  the 
native,  and  the  tourists  swarm  to  this  famed 
beauty-spot  for  the  two  days  of  celebration, 
when  the  spirit  of  the  great  Shogun  is  con- 
veyed from  one  tomb  to  the  other.  I 
alighted  in  a  downpour  of  rain,  and  was 
greeted  by  the  bland  man  of  the  hotel,  who 
was  full  of  apologies,  as  if  quite  responsible 
for  Dame  Nature's  freaks. 

"  I  am  varee  sorry  eet  eez  so  war,"  he  said 
so  pitifully  that  I  cheerily  asked  if  it  always 
rained  in  beautiful  Nikko. 

"  Not  af  ry  day,"  he  said  in  a  tone  which 
left  little  room  for  hope,  "  and  it  nafer  rains 
on  the  procession,"  he  added.  Evidently  the 
heavens  themselves  paid  respect  to  the  great 
Shogun. 

92 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

When  I  arrived  at  the  hotel,  the  host 
called  me  by  name,  as  if  I  were  the  one  per- 
son on  earth  whom  he  hoped  to  see,  and  a 
score  of  kindly  lads  and  lassies  gathered  at 
the  riksha  and  attacked  my  luggage.  The 
little  town  was  shut  in  by  a  wall  of  high 
peaks,  and  the  clouds  hung  like  blankets  on 
the  mountains. 

A  great  event  was  coming,  one  sacred 
throughout  the  empire,  and  famed  even  to  the 
foreigner,  and  everybody  would  arrive  who 
could  possibly  scurry  to  these  hills  from  any 
corner  of  the  pretty  island.  Great  prepara- 
tions were  in  progress  and  the  hotel  was 
thronged  with  guests.  June  ist  and  2d  are 
wonderful  days  for  Nikko,  and  geisha  girls, 
jig-steps,  and  fireworks  were  in  order  for 
the  first  day,  which  chanced  to  be  Sunday, 
and  which  dawned  fair  amid  much  rejoicing, 
while  the  workmen's  hammers  banged  upon 
the  grand  stand,  which  was  still  unfinished 
when  the  show  began. 

I  was  bargaining  at  a  curio  store  for  a 
pair  of  lofty  candlesticks,  when  a  dozen 
geishas,  painted  and  powdered,  rolled  up  the 
street.  I  raced  with  the  riks,  lest  something 
should  be  missed,  and  we  all  just  escaped 
the  sharp  shower  that  came  scudding  from 

93 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  mountains.  "  Hard  on  the  geishas,"  said 
a  sympathetic  flirt,  but  their  stage  was  roofed 
with  oiled  paper,  and  they  had  little  discom- 
fort. 

All  the  village  was  behind  the  bamboo 
railing  that  shut  off  the  humble  from  those 
of  high  degree,  yet  did  not  prevent  these 
poorer  children  of  the  streets  from  seeing 
the  wonders  of  the  stage.  A  wee  gamin  tod- 
dled under  the  bars  to  the  front,  in  wide- 
eyed,  open-mouthed  admiration  of  the  sirens 
who  floated  waves  of  colour  above  his  head. 
The  unabashed  joy  of  the  urchin,  till  cor- 
ralled by  his  mother,  was  the  amusement  of 
the  crowd.  Drum  and  flute,  kato  and  sami- 
sen,  performed  to  the  graceful  sweep  of 
geisha  gowns. 

Lavish  Entertainment  of  Guests 

Mr.  Arai  was  the  misfit  name  of  our  host, 
an  incongruous  sobriquet  for  a  little  man 
always  in  order.  He  was  anything  but  awry, 
as  he  pirouetted  about  the  diner  in  patent 
leathers  and  evening  suit.  He  had  made  the 
hall  a  scene  of  beauty,  by  bringing  birds  and 
flowers  from  the  woods.  A  floral  scheme  of 
ferns  and  azaleas  enlivened  the  tables,  and 

94 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

a  dainty  boutonniere  peeped  from  each  plate. 
From  soup  to  nuts,  the  delicacies  in  season 
and  out  of  season  rejoiced  the  epicure.  Fas- 
tidious folks  purloined  the  menu  that  they 
might  send  to  fearful  friends  at  home  the 
proof  that  they  were  not  starving  in  the 
wilderness. 

By  night  the  artistic  grounds  were  a  gleam 
of.  fairy  splendour.  Coy  lights  below  ri- 
valled the  glittering  stars  above.  Soft  rays 
from  gay  lanterns  shot  among  the  shrubs,  and 
lights  hung  from  rustic  arbours  and  edged 
the  miniature  lake.  The  villagers  leaned  on 
the  barriers  to  indulge  in  the  joys  of  Eden. 
Fireworks  are  the  delight  of  the  native,  and 
pinwheels  whizzed,  fiery  serpents  squirmed 
and  hissed  in  the  grass,  rockets  shot  high  in 
air,  and  the  children  shot  admiring  "  oh's." 
Guests  wrapped  in  blankets,  like  moving 
mummies  patrolled  the  veranda,  fighting  the 
sharp  mountain  air.  Stage  curtains  caught 
on  the  ropes  or  flapped  in  the  wind,  and 
footlights  blew  themselves  out  in  the  dark- 
ness at  the  most  thrilling  point  of  the  play. 
The  variety  of  the  vaudeville  appealed  to 
the  gallery  gods.  Rowdies  and  highwaymen 
in  ragtag  toggery  played  high  jinks  with 
swords  that  flashed  as  if  in  deadly  earnest. 

95 


A  Woman  Alone 

Baggy  breeches  and  cloudy  turbans  gave 
dramatic  effect  to  their  flashing  sabres.  Wee 
children  under  thatched  hats  of  ragged 
fringe  performed  like  little  baboons.  Pan- 
tomime repeated  the  old,  old  story  of  the 
"  Suitor  Sought,"  and  it  was  a  burning  ques- 
tion of  two  to  one,  as  each  coy  maiden  played 
up  to  the  vacillating  lover,  who  appeared  a 
brilliant  rose  between  two  pricking  thorns. 
The  audience  never  knew  which  persistent 
maid  had  captured  the  booty,  so  much  was 
left  to  the  imagination. 

While  love  or  robbery  held  the  stage, 
geisha  girls  royally  flirted  with  every  avail- 
able American.  "  Every  one  of  them  is  a 
born  flirt,  a  natural  coquette,"  said  a  man 
who  was  offering  himself  in  proof  of  his 
theory.  The  morale  of  the  girl  has  been 
so  generally  discussed  and  denounced  that 
every  man  goes  to  Japan  with  intent  to  know 
the  geisha,  and  he  is  morally  responsible  for 
much  of  the  social  sin  which  the  Japanese 
girl  shoulders.  He  assails  her  with  wiles  and 
smiles  and  flattery  till  her  empty  head  is 
turned,  and  he  takes  liberties  that  no  gentle- 
man, no  decent  man,  could  use  in  any  other 
land,  —  and  the  most  modest  miss  becomes 
an  artful  flirt 

96 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

The  Great  Procession  of  the  Shoguns'  Spirits 

Day  dawned  in  glory,  and  tourists  and  pil- 
grims were  zealous  to  witness  the  transfer 
of  the  spirits  of  great  leyasu,  of  the  warrior 
Hideyoshi,  and  of  the  noble  lemitsu,  with  all 
their  sacred  paraphernalia,  to  another  temple. 
Villagers  decked  in  gay  finery  joined  the 
holy  priesthood  in  the  annual  march,  and 
the  jolly  crowds  at  the  vantage-grounds 
chosen  by  the  hotels  gave  little  idea  that 
the  ceremony  was  solemn.  Guests,  an  hour 
in  advance,  were  refreshed  with  ice-cream, 
ever  dear  to  the  American,  and  assembled 
villagers  and  countrymen  crowded  to  the 
ropes  for  a  view  of  the  wondering  foreigners. 
Blind  children  groped  their  way  with  staves 
in  a  wistful,  hungry  search  for  the  joys  that 
were  shut  out  of  their  lives. 

A  congestion  in  travel  caused  the  minia- 
ture policeman  to  enforce  authority  among 
the  gaping  crowds.  He  had  not  the  bigness 
of  the  English  police,  but  he  carried  disci- 
pline with  him.  He  especially  cleared  the 
way  for  the  hotel  people,  and,  with  the  in- 
stinctive courtesy  of  the  native,  the  grand 
patriarch  of  the  hotel  floated  to  the  scene  and 
bowed  deep,  with  the  dignity  of  his  ances- 

97 


A  Woman  Alone 

tors,  and  worthy  of  the  departed  spirits,  be- 
fore the  little  officer.  A  kindness  never  goes 
unnoticed  in  Japan. 

The  spectators  had  little  of  general  intel- 
ligence to  spare.  Just  why  we  had  come, 
and  what  we  should  see,  nobody  knew;  but 
all  comprehended  that  it  was  Nikko's  famed 
fete,  and  a  noted  Shinto  rite. 

The  click  of  the  camera  caught  the  pag- 
eant as  it  swept  through  the  shade  of  the 
kingly  forest,  among  those  grand  old  crypto- 
maria  that  for  scores  of  years  had  looked 
in  stately  dignity  on  the  priest,  the  peasant, 
and  the  stranger.  On  came  the  advance- 
guard  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  white-robed 
saints,  tearing  over  the  road  like  a  pack  of 
howling  maniacs,  dragging  the  sacred  trees 
with  noise  and  rush. 

Then  came  the  tramping  lancers,  with 
their  long,  sharp  halberds,  followed  by  the 
"  Great  Divine,"  a  most  holy  personage  who 
bore  among  his  titles  the  name  of  "  Com- 
mander of  the  Procession."  As  clown  in  a 
country  circus  he  would  have  been  the  terror 
of  the  children,  with  his  terrible  red-skinned 
mask  and  bulbous  nose.  After  him  came 
six  little  men,  with  broomstick  legs  escap- 
ing from  gilded  drapery,  who  wore  hideous 

98 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

male  and  female  lion  masks,  while  their 
human  features  strained  for  breath  between 
the  lion  jaws.  The  musicians  raised  a  fright- 
ful racket,  but  eight  dainty  priestesses,  or 
Shinto  dancing  girls,  were  a  picturesque  bit 
of  beauty  in  flowing  sleeves  of  white  and 
divided  skirts  of  red.  What  wheeling  they 
would  have  done,  perched  on  a  modern 
Rambler!  The  mounted  priesthood  did  not 
ride  as  to  the  manor  born,  and  the  sacred 
ponies  were  not  blue-blooded.  The  irrev- 
erent youngster  from  America  did  not  care  if 
they  were  in  a  sacred  procession.  His  nature 
was  more  sporty  than  holy,  and  he  promptly 
dubbed  the  gawky  creatures  "  Graveyard, 
Tombstone,  Rattlebones." 

The  clank  of  metal  plates  inspired  more 
respect  for  gunners,  spearmen,  archers,  and 
soldiers  in  armour.  The  giant  guns  were 
heavy,  and  the  terrible  long  bows  loomed 
much  taller  than  their  bearers.  Two  hun- 
dred men  formed  the  military  force,  con- 
trasting with  a  dozen  tiny  priests,  the  aco- 
lytes of  the  Shinto  service,  crowned  with 
bright  flower-caps.  Fifty  masked  men,  of 
every  terrible  sort,  followed,  and  then  came 
stately  priests  carrying  tall  banners  tipped 
with  fans.  A  mounted  bearer  of  the  sacred 

99 


A  Woman  Alone 

sword  was  surrounded  by  his  holy  body- 
guard, and  emblems  of  the  temple  were  in 
the  procession,  —  the  flag,  lances,  and  drum, 
which  sounded  its  harsh  tattoo  for  the  spirit 
of  the  dead;  nor  was  the  big  bell  missing. 
"  A  motley  array  of  temple  trumpery,"  said 
the  critic,  but  he  had  nothing  to  say  in  pres- 
ence of  the  thirty  monkey-boys,  rigged  up 
to  represent  our  simian  ancestors.  Then 
came  the  trainers,  with  the  sacred  monkey 
who  did  not  like  holy  processions,  and  hid 
his  face  in  the  folds  of  his  master's  gown, 
as  if  blushing  for  all  of  his  descendants. 

Though  the  Shinto  priests  may  not  be  fol- 
lowers of  Darwin,  the  tricky  quadruped  is 
an  important  feature  in  Nikko's  history. 
His  fame  is  wide  throughout  Japan,  and, 
though  he  does  not  run  wild  in  the  woods, 
nor  hurl  sticks  on  the  coming  tourist,  as 
many  anticipate,  he  is  a  holy  symbol,  carved 
in  three  attitudes  on  the  sacred  stable  dedi- 
cated to  the  great  leyasu,  where  he  piously 
shuts  his  ears  and  eyes  and  mouth  to  evil. 
He  is  Nikko's  holy  trade-mark,  on  box  and 
tray  and  table,  in  group  of  polished  ivory, 
bidding  the  harsh  censor,  "  Hear  no  evil,  see 
no  evil,  speak  no  evil,"  and  I  wondered  how 


100 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

thoroughly  the  modern  Christian  world 
would  learn  the  pagan's  lesson. 

Behind  the  shamefaced  quadruped  came 
humbler  priests,  musicians,  and  types  of  old 
nobility  in  costumes  of  gaudy  colour  and  of 
quaint  design.  White  robes  and  conical 
black  hats,  green  coats  and  blue  breeches, 
fantastic  colours,  mingled  in  the  outfit,  till 
it  seemed  as  if  phantoms  of  an  old  museum 
were  marching  by.  There  were  all  the 
grandeur  and  austerity  of  the  old  Shogun, 
wrapped  in  crested  garments  and  waving 
his  glittering  wand. 

Behind  the  nobles  came  the  falconers, 
proud  of  the  birds  resting  on  their  masters' 
wrists,  as  they  blinked  in  the  sun,  longing 
to  break  their  chains  and  fly  to  the  deep 
forest. 

The  motley  panorama  was  an  unintelli- 
gible composite  to  the  stranger,  but  the  glory 
of  it  all  was  the  "  Gohei,"  or  divine  spirit, 
a  holy  paper  of  dazzling  gilt,  radiant  as  with 
heavenly  glory.  It  is  the  yearly  offering 
of  the  emperor,  who  is  himself  divine,  and 
it  is  sent  the  day  preceding  the  procession. 
Without  its  presence  there  could  be  no  cele- 
bration. Three  times  it  appeared  as  a  guard- 
ian to  each  of  the  three  shrines,  but  it  re- 

101 


A  Woman  Alone 

ceived  not  a  fraction  of  the  honour  which 
fell  to  the  shrines  themselves. 

We  had  heard  the  verdict,  "  Every  person 
will  stand,  and  the  men  will  bare  their  heads 
when  the  great  shrine  comes  in  sight."  It 
approached,  as  the  wildest,  maddest,  mer- 
riest sight  a  waiting  throng  could  ever  wish 
to  see.  It  might  be  a  bacchanalian  orgy, 
or  the  frantic  antics  of  ungoverned  maniacs. 
Waves  of  noise  rolled  up  from  the  throats  of 
the  bearers  as  they  staggered  and  reeled 
under  the  weight  of  their  shrine.  If  the 
spirit  of  the  great  leyasu  was  within,  it  was 
terribly  tumbled  and  tossed  in  its  slumbers! 
His  was  a  ponderous  spirit,  to  judge  from 
the  struggles  of  its  bearers.  Fifty  white-clad 
priests  and  forty  guards  bore  the  treasure, 
resting  on  long  beams.  It  was  brilliant  with 
rich  trimmings  of  red  lacquer  and  gold,  yet 
the  crowds  gave  it  but  secondary  thought. 
Attention  centred  in  the  shrieking  men  who 
bore  the  burden.  They  bent  beneath  it,  they 
reeled  and  staggered,  till  we  thought  the 
giant  thing  would  topple  down  and  crush 
its  victims.  The  affrighted  crowds  fell  back, 
not  wishing  to  feel  the  weight  of  leyasu  in 
his  shrine.  As  the  priests  gasped  for  air,  the 
attendants  fanned  them  desperately,  and 

102 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

rivers  of  perspiration  rolled  from  their 
swarthy  faces.  With  a  wild  effort  and  a 
mighty  stride,  they  dragged  on,  and  shortly 
made  another  halt. 

Thus  was  the  perilous  journey  made  from 
the  permanent  home  of  the  illustrious  spirit 
to  the  neighbouring  temple,  where  it  should 
make  a  brief  sojourn.  At  night,  with  the 
same  weary  effort  and  barbaric  display,  it 
returned  to  its  usual  resting-place,  to  wait 
another  year.  Strangers  from  all  quarters 
of  the  earth,  and  natives  from  every  corner 
of  the  island,  had  gathered  for  this  wild 
pageant,  which  was  eighteen  minutes  in 
passing.  It  was  a  mystery  to  the  many,  who 
could  no  more  realize  the  glory  of  Nikko's 
shrine  to  the  Japanese  than  they  can  under- 
stand the  sacredness  of  the  tomb  in  distant 
Mecca  to  the  faithful  Arab.  The  crowds 
soon  scattered,  and  left  the  tall  cryptomeria 
towering  like  sentinels  beside  the  Shoguns 
resting  on  the  hillsides. 

The  Mountain  Road  to  Fair  Chuzenji 

Sunshine  is  so  rare  at  Nikko  that  the  tour- 
ists resolved  at  once  upon  the  visit  to  Chu- 
zenji, renowned  upon  the  heights,  and  every 

103 


A  Woman  Alone 

rik  was  in  demand.  One  lady  fainted  as  she 
twisted  an  ankle  on  entering,  and  the  rikman 
naively  explained  the  accident  that  "  She 
died,  but  did  come  back  again."  Evidently 
it  was  to  him  a  resurrection  scene. 

Bravely  they  bowled  us  beside  the  rushing 
waters,  where  the  famed  array  of  Buddhas 
never  adds  up  twice  the  same.  "  There  are 
certainly  two  thousand,"  exclaimed  the  nov- 
ice. But  at  least  there  were  two  hundred 
gods  grinning  by  the  roadside  with  folded 
hands  and  placid  smile  and  look  of  supernal 
wisdom,  as  if  to  say  of  passing  tourists, 
"What  fools  these  mortals  be!"  Moss  and 
lichens  drape  their  saintly  forms,  and, 
though  the  head  of  a  deity  may  have  rolled 
in  the  mud,  his  staunch  figure  retains  its 
stately  pose.  Years  ago,  the  patriarch  of 
the  gods  rode  down-stream  in  a  washout, 
whirling  among  the  boiling  eddies,  but  he 
landed  right  side  up  at  the  next  village, 
where  to-day  he  wears  a  red  bib,  and  is 
worshipped  for  his  triumphal  journey  by  the 
passing  peasants.  Deep  in  the  crevice  of  a 
river  boulder  sits  the  last  scion  of  this  long 
and  illustrious  line,  dashed  by  the  foam  of 
the  hurrying  stream.  Kobe  Daisha,  saint 
and  sculptor  coeval  with  famed  Charle- 

104 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

magne  in  Europe,  carved,  in  the  rough  rock, 
this  miracle  beyond  the  reach  of  mortals. 

Eight  miles  of  stiff  mountain  road  ran 
beside  the  racing  river,  or  deep  in  the  Heart 
of  the  woods.  There  was  hard  scrambling 
for  pushman  and  pullman,  but  no  moan  or 
murmur  escaped  them.  They  passed  each 
rough  spot  with  a  laugh  of  triumph.  They 
were  reenforced  with  many  sandals,  and  the 
road  was  paved  with  these  relics  of  the  run- 
ners, as  they  pulled  on  one  new  pair  after 
another,  and  left  the  worn  one  in  shreds  by 
the  road.  The  men  knew  every  foot  of  the 
way,  and  flashed  back  a  sunny  smile  for 
every  appreciative  word  of  the  patron. 

We  ran  through  acres  of  bamboo  grass, 
where  young  shoots  striped  in  green  and 
white  threw  a  spring  carpet  in  the  azalea 
woods,  whose  bright  flowers  made  rainbows 
in  the  air  from  trunks  that  were  thirty  feet 
high.  It  was  the  ideal  June  day  of  the  poet, 
when  every  tree  is  new-gowned  and  the  birds 
chant  their  paean  of  praise.  The  crows  had 
a  joyous  caw,  and  the  mocking-bird's  note 
rose  above  the  rushing  stream,  like  first 
tenor  of  a  feathered  choir.  "  Waterfall, 
waterfall,"  cried  the  men,  as  they  urged  us 
to  a  tramp  in  the  woods,  where  a  glory  of 

105 


A  Woman  Alone 

water  leaped  the  rocks  and  tumbled  in 
tumult,  to  catch  itself  in  a  pool,  where  it 
eddied  and  whirled,  then  fell  over  rocks  in 
a  rainbow  mist. 

Four  hours  the  riksha  rattled  up-hill  to 
halt  at  the  hotel  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Chu- 
zenji.  Brilliant  stalks  of  azalea  lined  the 
rooms,  and  it  seemed  a  wanton  destruction 
of  innocent  foliage,  but,  "  We  can't  kill 
them.  We  stick  a  shoot  in  the  ground,  and 
it  springs  to  a  tree,"  said  the  proprietor. 
The  lake  was  heavily  stocked,  and  fisher- 
men threw  their  weighted  nets  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  outlet,  as  they  saw  the  victims 
enter  the  pass.  The  loud  splash  on  the  water 
scared  off  the  other  fish,  but  the  natives  had 
the  patience  which  brings  success,  and  waited 
till  the  last  cast  of  the  twine  was  forgotten. 

Beautiful  Chuzenji  makes  one  fear  that  it 
may  become  gay  and  fashionable,  and  there- 
fore spoiled.  It  is  at  present  a  restful  resort, 
and  the  foreign  legations  delight  in  its 
beauty  during  the  long,  hard  heat  of  mid- 
summer. Early  days  make  it  idyllic  for  the 
invalid  and  tourist. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  natural  beauty,  near 
to  calm  lake  and  radiant  flowers,  the  forest 
sheltered  tragic  despair.  With  his  obi  at- 

1 06 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

tached  to  his  neck  and  to  a  bough,  a  young 
man,  with  a  few  sen  in  his  pocket,  had  swung 
himself  into  eternity.  No  one  knew  if  sick- 
ness and  starvation,  or  a  loveless  and  a  lonely 
life,  had  driven  him  to  death.  He  was  found 
by  a  passing  woodman  who  finished  his  work 
before  making  a  report,  and  still  the  man 
hung  till  police  could  come  from  distant 
Nikko. 

Death  has  no  fears  for  the  native,  and  he 
steps  bravely  across  the  great  divide.  The 
simple  people  of  the  interior  have  few  needs, 
yet  suicide  is  no  uncommon  event.  It  is 
always  preferable  to  slow  starvation,  and, 
since  rice  and  every  necessity  have  risen  in 
price,  the  poor  have  known  the  misery  of 
hunger.  The  old  code  made  death  the  hon- 
ourable end  to  misery,  and  a  man  disgraced 
looked  upon  death  as  duty.  By  ending  the 
struggle,  he  got  even  with  defeat,  or  cheated 
further  trouble,  and  wiped  out  the  shame  of 
misfortune. 

Eight  more  miles  of  stiff  climbing  bear  the 
traveller  through  late  cherry  blossoms,  rho- 
dodendrons, and  azaleas,  that  keep  the  forest 
alive  with  beauty.  Above  towered  the  snowy 
height  of  holy  Nantaizan,  ascended  by  ten 
thousand  pilgrims  every  summer.  Only  re- 

107 


A  Woman  Alone 

cently  has  the  foot  of  woman  been  allowed  to 
tread  its  holy  way,  and  she  must  still  skirt 
around  the  sacred  portal,  through  which  the 
stern  priest  forbids  her  passage.  The  jolly 
sea-captain,  who  returned  with  accumulated 
wisdom  and  saintliness  from  the  stiff  climb 
of  four  thousand  feet,  told  of  the  mysteries 
performed  on  him  at  the  base,  of  prayers 
and  blessings,  and  the  brushing  of  holy 
papers  about  his  weather-stained  brow,  ere 
he  was  allowed  to  ascend. 

Fifty  feet  wide,  three  hundred  feet  long, 
a  wondrous  water-slide  slipped  down  its 
smooth  incline,  gathering  power  and  beauty 
as  it  rolled  in  its  glassy  bed.  Never,  in  all 
my  roamings,  had  I  found  any  whim  of 
nature  to  equal  this.  Below  was  a  rocky 
isle,  hung  with  trees  and  fringed  with  flow- 
ers. It  cut  the  rolling  stream,  but  the  di- 
vided waters  slipped  again  into  the  sunlight 
and  chattered  on  the  rocks  below. 

On  the  Heights  of  Yumoto 

Above  Chuzenji  rests  Yumoto,  a  miniature 
lake,  where  the  air  is  rank  with  sulphur,  sug- 
gesting the  Inferno.  Hot  springs  well  from 
the  ground,  and  bath-houses  vomit  steam. 

1 08 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

The  steaming  liquid  is  famous  for  cures,  but 
the  unwary  tourist  is  often  parboiled  in  its 
terrible  heat,  and,  if  he  awkwardly  loosens 
the  spigot,  in  frantic  efforts  to  cool  off,  the 
hissing  vapours  flood  the  tank,  and  remind 
him  of  the  horrors  of  a  sulphurous  future. 
Even  the  natives,  who  are  heroic  in  the  baths, 
cool  the  waters  of  Yumoto. 

Shaven  heads  bobbed  in  the  tanks,  and 
dusky  forms  in  nude  simplicity  marched 
down  a  plank.  I  had  long  ceased  to  call 
such  sights  indecent,  but,  with  a  bit  of  nat- 
ural modesty,  I  left  the  narrow  plank  and 
skirted  in  the  shrubbery  by  the  way.  A 
native  sprang,  au  naturel,  from  the  water  and 
ran  toward  me.  His  bathing-suit  was  a 
kindly  smile,  and  he  emitted  fairly  good 
English,  which  indicated  that  he  thought 
I  was  showing  politeness  and  reverence 
to  the  plank.  Such  deference  was  need- 
less, and  he  said :  "  Thees  eez  the  way, 
lady.  Come  on  the  board.  Eet  eez  no  con- 
sequence, no  consequence  at  all."  He  de- 
lighted in  his  vocabulary,  and  persisted  in 
his  effort,  without  a  suspicion  that  I  would 
purposely  avoid  so  simple  and  natural  a 
thing  as  a  naked  form.  I  thought  the  epi- 
sode of  very  great  "  consequence,"  as  an 

109 


A  Woman  Alone 

illustration,  but,  with  needless  blushes,  I 
emerged  from  the  bushes,  resolved  to  brave 
Japanese  simplicity  on  the  narrow  plank. 

The  rikmen,  bent  on  what  was  cleanly  and 
healthful,  dropped  to  their  necks  in  the  vats, 
and  began  a  sulphurous  scrub.  Their  efforts 
extended  to  the  clothes  they  wore.  Spread- 
ing them  on  the  boards,  they  soaped  and 
washed  and  rinsed  away  every  trace  of  the 
tiresome  trip,  and  hung  the  wet  garments 
to  dry  on  the  bushes.  Then  they  donned 
the  clean  suits  which  were  under  the  seat 
of  the  riksha,  and  were  natty  and  neat  for 
the  homeward  spin.  How  many  American 
cabmen  stand  as  near  as  the  little  Japanese 
rikman  to  that  quality  which  is  next  to  god- 
liness? 


no 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 


ALONE  IN  NIKKO 
Mutual  Distrust 

As  lovely  Nikko  is  the  Mecca  of  the  pil- 
grim and  the  stamping-ground  of  the  tourist, 
so  is  it  the  restful  resort  of  the  weary;  and 
where  the  trotters  swarm  for  two  days  of 
celebration,  it  was  my  fortune  to  linger  alone 
six  weeks,  to  walk  and  talk  with  the  natives, 
and  many  a  heart  to  heart  experience  was 
mine. 

While  wandering  among  the  monarchs  of 
the  forest,  I  met  a  peasant  lad,  perhaps  of 
eighteen  years,  with  pack  on  back,  peering 
from  a  wall  into  the  realm  below.  With  all 
a  browsing  wanderer's  interest  in  things 
novel,  I  climbed  the  bank  to  get  his  point 
of  view.  Never  had  he  seen  a  thing  so 
queer  and  strange  drive  straight  for  him. 
Instantly  he  was  on  the  defensive.  He 

in 


A  Woman  Alone 

clenched  his  fists,  ground  his  teeth,  flashed 
his  eyes,  and  muttered  angry  prayers.  He 
regarded  me  as  an  aggressor,  and  was  ready 
for  the  fray.  He  straightened  his  muscles 
and  seemed  to  say,  "  I'll  kill  you,  if  I  must," 
and  I  thought,  "  Poor  fellow,  you  don't  have 
to.  Only  let  me  depart  in  peace,  for  I  am 
ten  times  as  scared  as  you  are."  I  was  pray- 
ing as  fast  as  he  to  be  delivered  from  the 
enemy,  but  I  made  less  fuss  about  it.  I  had 
followed  close  in  his  path  to  reach  the  para- 
pet, where  I  found,  —  nothing.  The  boy 
had  become  the  embodiment  of  defiance. 
Every  gesture  was  a  threat.  There  was 
blood  in  his  eye,  as  he  took  a  step  forward. 
I  backed  from  the  wall  and  skirted  into  the 
briers,  at  the  risk  of  snakes,  to  avoid  the 
insensate  youth.  He  muttered  incantations 
to  ward  off  my  demoniac  self.  He  cried  to 
all  the  gods,  he  punctured  the  air  with 
charms  to  avert  the  evil  spirit.  Fiercely  he 
denounced  the  foreign  devil,  and  I  slid  down 
the  bank  with  a  one-sided  air  and  gained 
speed  with  distance,  while  he  clapped  his 
hands  and  still  purified  the  air  of  demons. 
When  people  ask  if  I  was  afraid  in  Japan, 
I  think  of  that  infuriate  lad  in  the  woods, 
and  say:  "When  the  native  was  afraid  of 

112 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

me,  I  was  truly  afraid  of  him.     The  scare 
was  mutual." 

Visits  to  the  Little  Shops 

But  the  denizens  of  Nikko  treated  the 
stranger  with  much  kindness.  The  town  has 
one  long  main  street,  lined  with  tiny  homes 
and  shops.  Every  home  and  shop  were  mine 
ere  I  left.  I  sometimes  felt  that  every  child 
was  mine. 

On  a  leafy  hill,  o'ershadowed  by  a  grove 
of  masts,  was  the  daintiest  bric-a-brac  shop 
in  town,  whose  walls  were  lined  with  treas- 
ures. Never  could  I  pass  the  door  without 
the  master's  kindly  call.  Well  he  knew  I 
should  not  buy,  but  he  had  always  another 
curio  to  uncover;  something  beautiful  to 
feast  my  eyes,  —  a  pet  casket  or  carving,  or 
teapot,  or  sword-hilt  of  ravishing  design,  and 
many  a  dial  we  had  through  his  limited 
English.  He  took  a  childlike  interest  in 
my  wardrobe,  told  the  price  of  his  obi,  and 
asked  the  cost  of  my  shoes.  The  item  im- 
pressed him,  and  he  said:  "That  make  one 
pound  each.  Very  much  cost,  one  shoe,  one 
pound,"  as  he  told  the  price  of  his  own  straw 
sandals. 

"3 


A  Woman  Alone 

Celebrating  the  Birth  of  the  Crown  Prince's 
Baby 

The  day  after  the  birth  of  the  Crown 
Prince's  baby,  all  the  land  was  rejoicing. 
Many  weeks  had  the  people  discussed  the 
coming  event,  and  the  faithful  subjects  had 
longed  for  a  baby  boy.  When  the  glad  news 
went  forth  by  wire  and  by  press,  everybody 
gave  up  to  a  day  of  feasting  and  delight. 
The  humblest  home  floated  the  national  ban- 
ner, and  mirth  and  music  were  in  order. 

As  I  passed  the  shop,  I  tried  to  slide  un- 
noticed by  the  collector.  But  I  heard  a 
dash  from  the  door,  and  the  clatter  of  clogs, 
and  there  came  the  friendly  call,  "  Come  in 
please;  do  please  come  see,"  and  he  led  me 
by  another  door  to  an  unknown  realm, 
cleanly  as  the  shop,  and  rich  in  precious 
trophies.  At  a  low  centre-table  were  rice 
and  fish  and  sake.  His  little  geisha  girl  was 
curled  up  in  a  bunch  on  the  floor  with  her 
samisen.  They  were  having  a  beautiful  cele- 
bration without  any  chaperon,  but  a  third 
party  was  no  intrusion,  and  the  girl  thought 
it  quite  proper  to  be  found  alone  entertain- 
ing her  young  man. 

He  was  voluble  with  drink,  and  poured 
114 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  sake,  saying:  "We  all  so  glad  —  varee 
much  want  leetle  boy  —  no  much  like  leetle 
girl  —  my  fren  come  sing,  I  say  *  like  sake? ' 
she  say,  *  varee  much,  tank,'  we  drink  sake. 
You  drink  sake,  you  pleeze  me  —  I  take  first, 
Japneze  costom  —  drink  same  cup,  you 
'blige  me  —  all  very  glad  —  leetle  boy  come 
—  everybody  want — all  Japneze  people 
very  happy  —  me  drink  more,  then  you 
drink,  all  so  glad." 

He  drained  the  little  egg-shell  cup,  re- 
filled, and  passed  it  to  me,  and  I  gladly  drank 
to  the  Crown  Prince  and  his  new  baby  of 
the  mild,  sherry-like  liquor,  which  is  the 
beverage  of  Japan  and  palatable  to  the 
stranger.  The  little  musician  twisted  herself 
into  a  small  knot,  and  struck  the  strings  of 
her  lyre,  to  give  out  those  dismal  notes  which 
ravish  the  Japanese  heart.  It  seemed  a 
funeral  wail,  but  was  meant  for  a  birthday 
welcome. 

Learning  to  Know  the  People 

The  stranger  alone  in  Nikko  had  great 
opportunity  for  good.  The  native  greed  for 
English  makes  the  foreigner  useful.  Jap- 
anese children  are  most  winsome.  I  have 

"5 


A  Woman  Alone 

counted  twenty-three  in  a  bunch,  of  all  di- 
mensions, cuddled  down  on  the  door-step. 
They  clung  to  my  hands,  about  my  neck, 
under  my  arms,  in  my  lap,  while  the  mothers 
nodded  approval,  and  I  borrowed  a  baby 
who  crowed  and  laughed  in  my  face.  As 
he  grew  restive,  I  gave  him  my  finger  to 
chew,  but  the  diet  did  not  satisfy,  and  he 
openly  declared  his  preference  to  be  snug- 
gled in  mother's  arms. 

Sometimes  we  exchanged  phrases,  where 
the  stranger  knew  the  equivalent  for  "  good 
night,  good  morning,"  but  oftener  the  little 
ones  learned  their  words  like  parrots,  and  the 
woods  echoed  with  the  shouts :  "  You  are 
very  nice.  I  love  you,  good  little  girl,  dear 
little  midget,"  which  last  was  given  with  a 
twist  that  precluded  all  understanding. 

The  Japanese  adore  their  children  and  are 
proud  to  show  it,  before  and  after  the  babies 
are  born.  One  day  I  met  a  dignified  man  in 
long  robes  and  high  clogs,  parading  through 
the  streets  with  a  diminutive  bundle  in  his 
arms.  His  face  was  wreathed  in  smiling 
affection.  "  How  old,  baby?  "  I  asked,  as  I 
peered  down  into  the  fuzzy,  woozy  bundle. 
"  Fourteen  day  old,"  said  the  proud  parent, 
and  I  wondered  how  many  an  American 

116 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

father  would  delight  in  carrying  his  two 
weeks  old  infant  through  the  main  street  of 
the  town! 

The  Japanese  are  kind  to  the  children,  and 
apparently  do  little  punishing,  and  the  usual 
baby  rewards  the  laisser-aller  system  by  be- 
ing very  jolly.  But  when  he  does  lift  his 
voice,  he  does  it  with  vigour  that  makes 
itself  heard.  One  day  the  wails  of  a  young 
hopeful  were  let  loose  on  the  air,  and  moth- 
ers and  youngsters  gathered  on  the  scene. 
They  stood  mute  with  consternation  at  the 
sound.  It  did  seem  as  if  some  one  was  being 
cruelly  massacred.  Such  misery  was  a  con- 
trast to  the  usual  peaceful  life  of  Nikko.  It 
tore  the  nerves  of  the  old  Irish- Australian 
lady,  who  rushed  to  learn  the  cause.  Baby 
had  been  refused  a  penny  for  candy!  The 
old  lady's  sympathy  was  curdled  to  wrath. 
"  An'  sure,  it's  a  good  sound  paddy  whacking 
I'd  bay  after  a-givin'  him,  a-stirrin'  up  a  hull 
town  fur  a  pinny  fur  candy." 

The  "  wooden  lady,"  of  perfect  manners, 
pegged  away  eternally  at  the  blind  phrases 
of  a  ridiculous  primer,  tracing  with  her 
bird's-claw  fingers  the  nonsensical  words, 
"  Is  this  plant  an  herbaceous  peony?  " 

"  What  botanical  rubbish  have  you  struck? 
117 


A  Woman  Alone 

The  man  should  go  to  the  Bastile  who 
writes  such  stuff  in  a  primer,"  I  cried,  and, 
though  she  did  not  comprehend  the  explo- 
sion, she  knew  there  was  something  doing, 
and  doubled  up  and  cackled,  as  she  brought 
out  her  dreadful  penmanship,  which  sug- 
gested the  old  story  of  the  picket-fence. 
The  bird  claws  were  brown  and  shrivelled, 
as  if  a  snake-skin  had  been  drawn  over 
them,  and  to  follow  their  tracery  was  im- 
possible. 

"  Tank  you  pleeze  varee  much,"  she  said, 
as  we  closed  the  lesson.  She  was  a  bun- 
dle of  good  manners  and  etiquette,  but, 
when  caught  off  her  guard,  her  face  in 
repose  had  the  stern  stoicism  of  a  brave  sa- 
murai. She  was  the  famed  coquette  of  the 
town,  dainty  and  mincing,  with  sweet  and 
gentle  voice,  and  the  grace  of  a  true-born 
siren.  Her  wily  ways  bowled  over  the 
strongest  men  like  ninepins.  She  sub- 
merged them  with  her  wooden  wares,  and 
loaded  them  with  trays  of  carved  monkeys 
and  boxes  engraved  with  waterfalls  and 
bridges,  which  they  could  not  escape.  The 
grim  old  sea-captain  set  his  flinty  face 
against  her,  but  she  prevailed,  as  she  knew 
she  would,  and  he  was  helplessly  loaded 

118 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

down  with  red  and  gold  lacquer,  of  which 
he  did  not  know  the  meaning  or  the  value. 
She  relentlessly  knocked  at  the  doors  of  tired 
tourists  at  late  night,  and  men  emerged  after 
a  day's  hard  jaunt,  half-dressed  and  half- 
asleep,  and  returned  from  the  nocturnal  in- 
terviews with  less  of  coin  and  more  of  curios. 
I  often  visited  her  store  for  love  of  the  little 
brown  puppy  which  grew  to  know  me.  The 
canine  rose  in  value  as  I  caressed  him,  and 
the  lady  said,  with  a  crafty  eye  to  business: 
"  I  no  like  him,  but  my  farzer  luf  him,  want 
to  keep  him.  I  gif  him  you,  but  my  farzer 
luf  him  so  he  no  can  gif,  he  want  three  yen! " 

The  Arts  and  Crafts  of  the  People 

One  could  study  silk  culture  in  these 
homes,  as  the  peasants  gathered  the  panniers 
of  leaves;  the  worms  crawled  on  the  shelves, 
and  the  cocoons  bobbed  on  the  boiling 
waters,  whence  the  little  maidens  deftly 
pulled  the  perfect  fibres. 

The  woods  of  Nikko  furnish  beautiful 
skins  to  the  market,  and  the  furrier  let  me 
roam  through  her  inner  sanctuary.  The  fur 
slipper  is  easy  for  the  gouty  foot,  and,  after 
my  purchase,  the  little  lady  thanked  me 

119 


A  Woman  Alone 

every  time  we  met,  salaaming  low  with  na- 
tive grace  and  saying,  "  Tank  you  var  mooch 
for  theese  morning,  tank  you  for  yesterday, 
tank  you  for  las'  week,"  as  the  date  required, 
till  in  self-defence  I  bought  another  pair  that 
the  thanks  merited  might  be  fresh  I 

Behind  the  house  rose  a  rough  rock,  so 
near  that  it  seemed  the  outer  wall  of  the 
home.  Its  warm  moss  was  spread  with  a 
miniature  landscape  garden.  Japanese  art 
can  be  crowded  into  the  smallest  space,  and 
every  feature  of  the  dim  old  forest  was 
there.  Rippling  streams,  roaring  cascades, 
dense  trees,  stone  lanterns,  sacred  torii,  and 
Lilliputian  men  were  in  evidence.  The  ser- 
pent slipped  through  the  moss,  and  frog  and 
stork  were  at  the  lakeside. 

In  the  home  a  pet  monkey  scrambled  over 
the  chests,  and  buried  deep  in  the  lady's 
sleeves,  for  nuts  and  seeds.  He  was  a  house- 
hold favourite,  bought  for  a  pound,  and  I 
was  glad  to  aid  in  his  support,  as  he  was 
considered  a  great  bargain.  He  wore  a 
wonderful  coat  of  gray  silk  fur,  but  his  face 
was  marked  by  stealthy  cunning.  He  looked 
like  the  soul  of  an  ancestor  in  retrograde, 
and  he  made  a  bee-line  for  me  as  if  he  rec- 
ognized a  member  of  the  family.  He 

1 20 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

grabbed  for  his  favourite  cucumbers,  and 
scrambled  by  a  chain  to  the  roof,  in  search 
of  nuts  among  the  rafters.  He  was  the  only 
child  of  the  home,  and  for  a  year  he  had 
lived  in  contented  luxury. 

I  never  found  reason  for  the  quoted  cru- 
elty of  the  Japanese,  a  people  who  so  ten- 
derly make  pets  of  babies,  animals,  and  flow- 
ers. The  children  of  any  nation  are  bar- 
baric little  savages  until  taught  better,  and 
one  who  has  seen  an  American  child  bite 
viciously  into  the  arm  of  a  baby  brother, 
and  another  young  American  drop  a  turtle 
into  scalding  water,  to  drive  him  out  of  his 
shell,  feels  that  the  American  has  no  stones 
to  sling  in  that  direction. 

The  wood-carver's  haunt  was  a  fanciful 
realm,  and  often  I  stole  up-stairs  among  the 
rare  chests,  tables,  and  boxes,  and  surprised 
the  owner  as  I  descended  to  his  workshop. 
Had  he  seen  me,  his  politeness  would  have 
bade  him  stop  all  work,  and  make  futile 
attempts  at  conversation.  He  showed  only 
generous  pleasure  that  I  had  roamed  unbid- 
den among  his  treasures,  and  when  I  made 
love  to  the  hen  in  her  cage,  he  removed  the 
wicker  and  deposited  the  hen  and  her  brood 
in  my  lap.  It  was  not  good  for  the  gown 

121 


A  Woman  Alone 

that  mother  and  chicks  should  nestle  there, 
but  he  had  offered  me  a  tender  compliment, 
and  I  could  not  refuse  the  menagerie.  The 
guests  were  not  overpolite,  and  left  ruinous 
marks  on  the  gown,  as  they  spattered  about 
and  pecked  for  the  grain  which  their  master 
had  dropped  in  the  folds.  Exquisite  things 
in  dark  heavy  woods  were  carved  by  the 
humble  craftsmen,  who  dug  at  the  hard 
lines  with  clumsy  tools,  till  the  plain  pieces 
grew  to  mighty  elephants,  or  a  triplet  of 
monkeys,  to  roses,  iris,  or  lotus. 

The  Yankee  zeal  for  bargains  had  full 
play  among  these  little  merchants.  "  How 
much?"  I  asked,  of  a  stand  with  carving  of 
a  lumbering  elephant  in  a  jungle.  "  Twelve 
yen."  "  Oh,  no,  too  much."  "  How  much 
you  geef,  lady?  "  "  Four  yen,"  I  said,  sport- 
ively. "  All  right,  lady.  You  haf,  go  hotel," 
and  I  found  to  my  dismay  that  I  had  an 
elephant  on  my  hands.  Many  a  time  I  car- 
ried off  cargo  which  I  had  never  meant  to 
buy.  The  derisive  prices,  which  seemed 
insulting,  were  accepted  with  glee,  only 
proving  what  fortunes  the  canny  people 
would  make  if  their  first  figures  were  taken. 
A  wily  Scotchman,  who  always  struck  for 
bottom  prices,  gloated  when  a  sturdy  arm- 

122 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

chair  was  sent  home  for  seven  yen.  "  It's 
a  big  bargain  noo,  a  great  thing  that,"  said 
the  victorious  Scot.  I  smiled  a  smile  of 
wisdom,  for  when  I  had  said  in  passing  to 
the  shopman,  "  I  give  four  yen,"  he  had 
gladly  answered,  "  Take  it,  lady,  take,  I  send 
hotel."  Maliciously  I  told  the  story,  as  it 
was  too  good  to  keep,  and  never  would  the 
injured  Scot  rest  easy  in  that  costly  chair, 
as  he  thought  of  three  yen  gone  to  glory! 

The  box-making  industry  is  an  art  in  a 
land  where  every  box  is  a  treasure  to  encase 
another  treasure.  No  nation  puts  up  a  lunch 
as  does  the  Japanese,  in  a  smooth  round  box 
embedded  with  leaves.  The  condiments  are 
in  a  tower  of  lesser  boxes,  united  by  wooden 
thongs,  and  the  butter,  pepper,  salt,  mustard, 
each  has  its  separate  box. 

All  sorts  and  shapes  of  boxes  are  turned 
out  in  the  little  shops  of  Nikko,  and  with 
delight  I  watched  the  nimble  ringers  fly. 
One  industrious  old  man  recalled  the  "  an- 
cient arrow-maker "  of  "  Hiawatha,"  as  he 
sat  in  his  door  ceaselessly  plying  his  trade, 
working  as  zealously  and  as  honestly  as  the 
skilled  artist  who  decorated  the  valued  cloi- 
sonne. He  worked  behind  horn  glasses, 
which  were  held  to  his  ears  by  loops  of 

123 


A  Woman  Alone 

string.  He  fastened  the  pieces  down  with 
his  toes,  and  made  the  boxes  in  piles  of 
halves,  using  little  wooden  pegs  in  place  of 
clumsy  nails.  From  a  bundle  of  sticks  he 
drew  the  pieces,  and  tacked  them  to  the 
squares  of  cedar,  and  as  the  halves  grew 
in  piles,  the  bundles  of  chips  diminished. 
The  two  parts  were  afterward  deftly  fitted 
together.  This  was  his  patient  life,  as  the 
hours  and  the  days  rolled  away,  to  drive  the 
wooden  pegs,  and  pound  the  tiny  pieces,  and 
polish  them  to  smoothness.  He  could  speak 
no  word  with  me,  and  only  noticed  me  with 
a  kindly  nod  and  smile.  Long  I  sat  in  the 
doorway,  fascinated  by  the  steady  growth  of 
boxes,  whose  neatness  was  my  admiration. 
This  was  a  trade  for  all  Japan,  minus  any 
big  factory  with  whistles  and  engines  and 
endless  bands.  The  dainty  boxes  that  went 
out  from  the  Lilliputian  homes  would  carry 
treasures  of  art  to  all  the  earth. 

What  would  happen  in  this  fair  land,  as 
we  sat  on  our  lovely  lawn  or  leaf-bowered 
porch,  with  book  or  embroidery,  if  a  brown- 
skinned  mite  from  Japan  came  clapping 
down  the  street  in  clogs  and  kimono,  with 
a  bright  paper  parasol  in  place  of  hat,  her 
hair  done  in  a  butterfly  bow,  if  she  toddled 

124 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

up  the  steps  and  indicated  that  she  would 
sit  down  and  watch  us  work?  Should  we 
welcome  her  with  sweet  and  gracious  smile, 
and  make  her  comfortable  with  the  best  we 
had,  or  should  we  think  her  an  intruder,  call 
the  dog,  whistle  the  police,  or  telephone  the 
hurry-up  wagon  that  a  loafer  was  desecrat- 
ing our  sanctum?  I  doubt  if  we  would  make 
that  unconventional  creature  welcome,  yet 
we  think  ourselves  polite. 

Well  I  recall  the  music-lesson  of  a  little 
home.  I  heard  the  thin,  falsetto  voice  pip- 
ing within,  and  drew  near  to  make  my  poor 
salaam  and  indicate  that  I  would  like  to 
listen  from  the  threshold.  The  housewife, 
with  baby  strapped  on  her  back,  hustled  to 
the  door  and  gave  me  mats.  Grandma 
bowed  low  with  sunny  smile.  From  a  dark 
corner  grandpa  saw  me,  and,  bent  double 
with  age  and  rheumatism,  he  crawled  along 
and  kissed  the  floor,  suffused  with  hospitable 
grins.  Kneeling  at  the  low  stand,  before  the 
music-roll,  the  children  whined  and  droned, 
as  they  picked  out  the  song  on  the  squeaky 
samisen.  The  untiring  teacher  beat  her 
baton,  crooned  low,  repeated  and  corrected, 
raised  the  tone  when  the  midgets  were  off 
the  key,  and  steered  them  through  the  weary 

125 


A   IVoman  Alone 

monotone  of  Japanese  art,  as  she  wheezed 
her  own  pitiable  notes.  They  made  a  mighty 
effort  to  give  me  the  sweetest  lullaby  in  the 
realm,  and  show  me  the  refined  accomplish- 
ment of  a  well-to-do  home;  and  when  my 
tested  nerves  could  stand  no  more  of  shrill 
falsetto,  I  crept  away  amid  the  smiles  and 
salaams  of  the  united  household. 

In  another  pigeon-nest  on  temple  hill  I 
loved  to  loiter,  surrounded  by  antiques  and 
curios,  where  the  dealers  were  my  friends, 
and  I  squatted  on  the  mats  to  gloat  on  the 
ancient  treasures  which  were  unwrapped 
from  their  silken  layers. 

Few  tourists  found  this  obscure  rookery, 
where  the  dark-eyed  lads  in  soft  silks  were 
always  at  leisure.  One  youth  naively  said 
he  would  like  to  marry  an  American  lady, 
but  they  were  all  too  rich!  They  would  not 
like  to  stay  in  Japan,  and  cook  in  the  kitchen. 
His  artistic  nest  was  embowered  in  green, 
with  no  stick  or  stone  in  its  curving  path. 
Near  the  arbour  was  a  temple  bell,  and 
before  the  door  hung  a  beautiful  white 
grouse.  When  I  tried  to  charm  him,  he 
proved  to  be  a  wooden  bird,  so  true  to  life 
that  he  might  deceive  an  Agassiz.  Flowers 
and  the  sacred  monkeys  were  carved  above 

126 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  door.  Within  rested  the  quiet  calm  of 
a  sanctuary.  The  little  shop  seemed  posi- 
tively holy.  Majestic  Buddha  in  the  centre 
flooded  the  place  with  peace.  On  the  wall 
hung  the  big  drum,  which  had  beaten  many 
a  tom-tom  to  departed  ancestors.  Opposite 
were  shoguns'  emblems,  beautiful  swords 
with  ivory  sheaths.  There  were  lunch-boxes 
of  lacquer  wrought  in  gold,  layer  after  layer, 
connected  by  cords.  I  felt  like  a  throned 
god  when  the  little  man  placed  me  a  mat 
on  a  lacquer  lunch-box.  He  hardly  spoke 
of  his  stately  souvenirs.  He  loved  them  all 
and  knew  their  worth.  He  had  ransacked 
the  country  far  north  for  such  trophies,  and 
he  loved  them  as  if  they  were  his  children 
and  a  part  of  his  life.  Tenderly  he  un- 
wrapped the  trifles,  as  we  squatted  in  the 
dim  light.  There  were  teapots  chased  with 
shoguns'  crests,  brocaded  purses,  inlaid 
pipes,  wonderful  sword-guards,  ivories  yel- 
low with  age,  intricate  figures  carved  in  a 
solid  piece,  wrought  in  microscopic  patterns, 
so  delicate  that  only  a  glass  revealed  the 
perfection  of  their  workmanship.  It  was  a 
pleasure  to  touch  the  treasures,  and  many 
quiet  hours  I  worshipped  at  this  shrine,  and 


137 


A  Woman  Alone 

the   old   man   delighted   in   my   enthusiasm, 
though  he  knew  I  could  not  buy. 

The  Wet  Season  in  Nikko 

Nikko  suggested  Scotland  in  its  summer 
weeks  of  rain,  but  during  those  thirty  days 
of  wet  weather  it  was  ever  beautiful.  Gray 
clouds  sailed  solemnly  across  the  heights, 
and  raked  the  sides,  and  sifted  through  the 
green.  They  dropped  down  the  slopes  like 
sheets  of  melted  lead. 

Even  the  empty-headed  nesans  felt  the 
grandeur  of  it  all.  Long  hours  they  sat  on 
the  porch  like  statues,  and  gazed  at  the  gray- 
ness.  When  they  tired  of  looking,  they  tried 
a  high  jump  from  the  steps,  and  the  boys 
shinned  the  posts.  Never  was  such  freedom 
given  to  hotel  waiters.  When  the  electric 
light  at  the  gate  went  out,  one  brave  maid, 
descended  from  a  samurai,  hit  the  tall  pole 
with  a  billet  of  wood,  and  created  a  tem- 
porary glimmer.  When  the  light  failed 
again,  this  little  mistress  of  the  black  art  hit 
another  whack,  and  laughed  to  see  the  elec- 
tricity wink  back  and  answer.  The  maidens 
had  little  idea  of  hard  work,  and  they 
seemed  made  only  to  bow  low  in  squads  for 

128 


DWARF    WAITER    AT   THE    HOTEL    NIK.KO,    A    FAVOURITE 
WITH    ALL 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

new  arrivals,  yet  they  tugged  up-stairs  the 
heaviest  burdens,  breathless  and  giggling 
with  fun.  Grumbling  is  not  the  heritage 
of  those  descended  from  the  stoical  days  of 
hara-kiri,  or  honourable  suicide. 

The  proprietor  passed  the  rainy  days  in 
the  office,  playing  a  miniature  game  of 
checkers.  The  American  thought  it  a  grand 
time  to  clean  house,  but  such  a  funny  thought 
never  struck  the  little  natives. 

By  the  usual  contrariety  of  methods,  rainy 
weather  seemed  the  time  for  outdoor  work; 
and  coolie  women  in  blue  tights,  with  the 
omnipresent  towel  of  blue  and  white  about 
the  head,  went  down  on  hands  and  knees,  to 
"  mow  the  lawn."  Five  days  they  knelt  and 
worked  and  gossiped  over  a  piece  which  a 
good  machine  would  have  clipped  in  fewer 
hours.  Living  illustrations  they  were  of 
wasted  strength.  But  they  were  chubby- 
faced  and  smiling,  and  gathered  a  tuft  in 
one  hand  as  they  snipped  it  with  a  rusty 
sickle  in  the  other. 

Weary  days  the  gardener  spent  in  the 
pouring  rain,  mounted  on  a  ladder,  shearing 
the  branches.  He  shaved  the  beautiful  trees 
almost  bald,  till  they  had  nothing  left  to 
prove  that  foliage  is  green.  Thus  it  is  ever 

129 


A  Woman  Alone 

with  the  trimmed  trees.  They  are  cut  and 
pruned  till  reduced  to  miniature,  as  the 
Japanese  idea  is  to  spread  into  fantastic 
forms,  or  to  flatten  to  an  umbrella  shape. 
So  the  pine  and  the  maple  and  the  feathery 
shrub  had  their  aspirations  nipped  in  the 
bud,  and  were  reduced  to  shoots.  A  bed 
of  Easter  lilies,  planted  in  the  rain,  sprang 
into  starry  beauty  before  my  window,  and 
the  idle  nesans  filled  the  vases  with  flowers, 
showing  that  skill  in  decoration  which  has 
made  Japan  so  lovely. 

One  can  acquire  a  taste  for  foreign  dishes. 
Bamboo  shoots  appealed  to  my  palate,  and 
macaroni  pudding,  done  up  in  custard,  dis- 
appeared in  slippery  tubes.  Almond  taffy 
was  too  great  a  test  of  good  manners.  Guests 
slipped  away  with  sly  handfuls,  and  vulgarly 
crunched  all  the  evening.  The  Americans 
looked  longingly  for  ice-cream,  which  ap- 
peared in  cycles.  In  seasons  of  plenty  we 
had  "  glace  au  citron,"  and  "  glace  a  la  va- 
nille,"  which  had  a  suggestion  of  Huyler. 
It  had  no  fixed  date,  and  the  joy  would  con- 
tinue a  week,  to  be  followed  by  a  season  of 
famine,  when  parched  lips  would  hunger 
in  vain  for  "  glace."  Chickens,  old  and 
young,  were  slain  by  the  gross  and  offered 

130 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

thrice  a  day,  till  it  depressed  one  to  think 
of  this  massacre  of  the  innocents  in  our 
behalf. 

The  Booming  Temple  Bell 

Not  least  among  Nikko's  glories,  in  the 
heart  of  the  forest,  sounds  the  great  bell,  and 
every  hour  its  rich  tone  rings  deep  in  the 
heart  of  the  tourist.  With  a  powerful  effort, 
the  priest  swings  the  beam  toward  the 
bronze,  and  holds  it  back  till  the  metal  has 
ceased  to  vibrate.  Several  minutes  are  re- 
quired to  sound  the  longest  hours,  and  he 
keeps  tally  with  a  pile  of  wooden  blocks. 
"Boom!"  sounds  the  bell  through  the 
woodland,  and  the  dim  old  forest  quivers 
with  the  peal.  It  lingers  on  the  air  and 
reverberates  through  the  town.  The  chatter 
of  tourists  is  hushed,  and  the  clatter  of  meal- 
tide  is  stilled.  A  tender  smile  and  a  kindly 
glance,  flitting  from  face  to  face,  mark  the 
respect  and  love  of  the  stranger  for  the  dig- 
nified note.  Sweetly  the  sound  hangs  on  the 
air,  strong  at  first,  then  soft  and  low  it 
floats  and  pulsates,  gently  fading,  faintly 
dying.  The  breath  is  held,  and  every  nerve 
is  strained  to  catch  the  last  wave  of  the 


A  Woman  Alone 

/ 
sonorous  tone.    Again  the  priest  lets  fly  his 

beam,  and,  like  a  man-of-war,  the  bronze 
strikes  out  its  signal,  which  again  rolls  into 
space,  and  the  great  bell  among  the  dark 
cryptomeria  is  stilled  for  another  sixty  min- 
utes. 

In  sunshine  or  in  shower  Nikko  is  lovely. 
The  sombre  forests  have  impressed  addi- 
tional dignity  on  the  gentle  natives,  and  the 
beauty  of  their  character  is  in  keeping  with 
the  harmony  around  them.  And  when  for 
the  last  time  rikky  trundled  me  down  their 
fascinating  village  street,  everybody  seemed 
to  share  my  grief  in  going.  Gentle  voices 
rang  along  the  way,  of  brass  merchant  and 
curio  vendor,  of  the  wooden  lady  and  the 
furrier,  of  the  toy-seller,  the  box  and  basket 
maker,  "  Good-bye,  Oksan,  come  back  gen, 
see  Nikko  nodder  time."  Small  wonder  that 
their  motto  reads,  "  See  Nikko,  and  die." 

When  the  woman  who  wandered  and 
rested  alone  thinks  of  lovely  Nikko,  seques- 
tered sepulchre  where  sleep  the  dauntless 
shoguns  among  mighty  mountains,  protected 
by  two  hundred  guardian  Buddhas  calmly 
grinning  beside  the  rushing  river,  blessed  by 
the  beautiful  red  bridge  sacred  to  the  divine 


132 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

emperor,  dominated  by  the  sombre  cryp- 
tomeria  of  the  darksome  forest,  there  comes 
the  vision  of  that  humble  village  street  and 
the  kindly  workers  in  the  arts  and  crafts. 


133 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER  VII 

SENDAI,  MATSUSHIMA,  AND  IKAO 
The  Famous  Chests  of  Sendai 

TEN  hours  from  Tokio  the  traveller 
reaches  Sendai,  the  largest  town  of  the  north, 
with  eighty  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  noted 
for  its  tansus,  or  wonderful  Sendai  chests, 
covered  in  beautiful  designs,  with  scrollwork 
of  wrought  iron,  which  the  tripper  rejoices 
to  export.  There  has  been  a  run  in  late 
years  on  this  lovely  souvenir,  and  it  is  rap- 
idly rising  in  value,  as  the  appreciation  of 
the  tourist  is  evident,  so  that  one  needs  to 
barter  and  haggle  if  he  would  have  bottom 
prices.  Only  the  resident,  well  used  to  the 
native,  and  posted  in  values,  is  able  to  make 
an  easy  trade.  Though  comparatively  few 
travellers  reach  Sendai,  each  wants  one  or 
several  great  chests,  which  strike  to  a 
woman's  heart,  since  the  top  drawer  will 

'34 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

receive  a  full-length  gown  unfolded.  Other 
drawers  are  shorter,  as  a  closet  runs  down 
the  side,  which  contains  small  drawers  with 
especial  locks.  Every  corner  is  a  work  of 
art,  and  every  lock  likewise,  finished  in 
graceful  coils  and  spreading  fans.  The 
handles  are  iron  pieces,  which  pull  up,  at 
the  very  top.  As  a  buffet  for  silver  pieces, 
or  packed  with  choice  linen,  in  bedroom  or 
dining-room,  this  noble  bit  of  furniture  is 
the  housewife's  pride.  It  contrasts  grandly 
with  the  mysterious  chest  of  Korea,  the  glory 
of  that  land,  which  is  finished  in  solid  brass, 
much  of  it,  but  perfectly  plain. 

The  hunter  for  chests  has  not  yet  used  the 
foreigner's  prerogative  to  spoil  a  town,  and 
Sendai  is  very  native,  unspoiled  by  the  tour- 
ist, though  it  boasts  a  semi-European  hotel. 
The  host  was  newly  married,  and  spent  all 
his  time  on  the  mats  of  his  speckless  floor, 
making  love  to  his  pretty  bride.  It  was 
difficult  to  find  him,  and  it  seemed  sad  to 
interrupt  him,  when  found,  for  the  practical 
matters  of  business,  which  are  usually  dear 
to  the  native.  He  appeared  to  resent  intru- 
sion, and  disregard  cash  accounts,  though, 
when  I  left,  he  rushed  up  frantically  at  the 
station,  and  breathed  in  my  ear  the  sepul- 

'35 


A  Woman  Alone 

chral  notice  which  he  had  forgotten, 
"  Eighty  sen,  please,  for  the  sandwiches  of 
your  lunch."  He  apparently  had  great  fear 
of  mortifying  me  in  presence  of  my  com- 
panion, but  "  we  two  "  had  a  merry  laugh 
over  the  narrow  escape  with  the  lunch. 

The  little  man  had  trotted  all  over  town 
with  me  in  search  of  a  proper  chest,  and, 
once  torn  away  from  his  bride,  he  seemed 
delighted  with  his  errand,  and  I  suspect 
drew  a  fine  commission,  as  my  price  was  not 
on  the  "  ground  floor."  I  talked  with  him 
on  matters  marital,  and  was  interested  in 
his  adoration  of  the  little  lady,  and  he  was 
very  sure  that  his  joy  would  last  and  his 
delight  be  ever  fresh,  "  that  he  would  never 
leave  her  nor  forsake  her."  "  All  the  world 
loves  a  lover,"  and  his  naivete  regarding  his 
affections  was  most  charming. 

A  Chance  Acquaintance 

The  house  had  a  large  dining-room,  which 
was  the  resort  of  the  swell  Japanese  for  clubs 
and  banquets.  Every  foreigner  dined  alone, 
and  was  allowed  chair  and  table  in  the  nest 
that  opened  by  screens  to  the  gallery  that 
looked  off  on  the  picturesque  garden.  One 

136 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

never  had  the  same  room  twice  in  succession, 
but  was  switched  on  behind  another  screen. 
A  gloomy  forbidding  man,  behind  specta- 
cles, with  a  heavy  mop  of  hair,  was  soberly 
reading  as  I  plunged  into  his  presence  and 
backed  out,  excusing  the  interruption,  as  I 
was  not  sure  of  my  room.  He  dropped  his 
book  with  relief.  "  An  interruption  is  a 
godsend  in  this  lonely  place.  I  only  read 
in  self-defence.  Let  us  shove  back  the  screen 
and  be  sociable."  After  that  we  always 
planned  a  companionable  meal-tide.  Thus 
are  the  barriers  of  conventionality  burned 
away  when  the  traveller  is  far  from  home. 
He  proved  a  wide-awake  insurance  man, 
with  all  the  rich  experience  of  that  class. 
He  had  resented  the  stalwart  prices  of  our 
European  house,  and  roomed  at  the  native 
inn,  where  commodities  were  few,  but  amus- 
ing geishas  plentiful! 

Waiting  in  the  Rain 

Sendai  is  the  stepping-stone  to  Matsushima, 
one  of  the  three  famed  beauty-spots  of  Japan, 
and  here  I  waited  to  make  the  trip,  in  the 
dreariest  rain  that  ever  tumbled  from  the 
sky.  Nowhere,  except  in  Southern  Cali- 

137 


A  Woman  Alone 

fornia,  had  I  ever  seen  it  rain  so  hard;  and 
the  insurance  man  declared  it  had  done  noth- 
ing else  for  ten  days. 

The  European  part  of  the  hotel  consisted 
of  three  desolate  rooms,  with  the  barest 
essentials,  and  here  I  must  sit  all  day  and 
watch  the  pitiless  pour  and  the  little  men 
running  about  in  straw  coats. 

The  native  editor  who  called  to  interview 
me  was  a  joy.  I  catechized  him  breathlessly, 
and  he  replied  politely,  and  at  the  close 
remarked,  "  Madame,  you  have  not  told 
me  very  much."  "  But  I  have  answered  all 
your  questions,"  I  said,  smiling  to  think  that 
he  had  had  no  time  to  put  a  question. 

Here,  too,  I  met  the  little  English  educa- 
tor who  had  raised  a  storm  in  Tokio  by  the 
assertion,  "  The  Americans  neither  write  nor 
speak  the  English  language  correctly."  There 
is  no  doubt  that  many  of  us  are  careless,  but, 
if  we  deserve  her  sweeping  criticism,  let  us 
speedily  improve.  For  the  good  of  our 
country,  let  us  be  careful.  The  natives  are 
most  receptive  to  new  ideas,  and  the  censure 
worked  much  harm  to  our  teachers,  who 
were  making  a  bread-and-butter  struggle  in 
the  capital  by  their  English.  Immediately 
the  Britisher  was  in  demand,  and  the  Ameri- 

138 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

can  teacher  lost  caste  and  lost  work.  The 
natives  wanted  the  best,  and  were  suspicious 
of  our  powers. 

To  the  observant  traveller,  every  incident 
is  a  clue  to  national  character.  The  storm 
got  on  the  nerves  of  the  Sendai  rats,  and 
they  played  mad  havoc  in  the  night.  They 
charged  through  the  hall,  and  they  raced  and 
rattled  and  scratched  in  the  ceiling.  They 
were  considerate  not  to  fall  through,  as 
morning  revealed  holes  a  foot  long  above. 
The  boy  solemnly  promised  to  put  in  re- 
pairs, and  a  little  later  the  holes  were  all 
neatly  covered  with  white  paper.  Strong 
preventive  against  rats! 

My  pitcher  was  without  handle,  and  one 
day  it  slipped  from  my  hands  and  lay  in 
magnificent  ruins  at  my  feet,  while  a  gallon 
of  water  flooded  the  room.  I  sounded  a 
troubled  note  on  the  one  public  bell  in  the 
hall,  as  every  towel  had  been  taken,  and 
I  feared  for  the  ceiling  of  the  banquet-room 
below.  Boys  and  maidens  rushed  to  my 
room,  and,  to  my  wild  demands,  "  Towels, 
quick:  towels,  pick  up  water,  everybody 
wet,"  they  doubled  up  in  roars  of  laughter, 
while  I  stood  helpless  in  the  swamp. 


A  Woman  Alone 
Matsushima  the  Lovely 

With  the  first  rift  in  the  clouds,  I  hurried 
to  famed  Matsushima,  an  island  in  the  deep 
blue,  surrounded  by  archipelagoes,  known 
for  its  eternal  hills,  its  temple-caves,  and 
idols  of  the  past,  its  tea-houses,  gardens,  and 
geisha  girls  of  the  present.  This  is  the  only 
spot  in  the  empire  where  the  solid  bamboo 
is  found,  and  it  is  sold  extensively  in  seals 
of  grotesque  carvings  of  the  idols  in  the 
gloomy  caves. 

From  the  tallest  peak  one  looks  down  on 
a  ravishing  view  which  might  well  be  that 
of  Lake  Winnipesaukee  and  its  dotted  isles. 
Certainly  it  is  the  twin  of  that  New  Hamp- 
shire nook,  and  no  lover  of  the  beautiful  in 
nature,  who  has  time  for  pleasure,  should 
omit  seeing  this  far-away  spot. 

A  Night  Ride  on  the  Train 

I  always  pity  the  poor  rich,  who  can  only 
afford  to  travel  first  class  and  stop  at  the 
best  hotels,  for  they  never  know  the  fun  they 
miss.  Only  the  tenderfoot  —  distressed  at 
rubbing  shoulders  with  the  native  whom 


140 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

he  says  he  has  come  to  see  —  and  the  very 
swellest  Japanese  travel  first  class. 

The  insurance  man  had  wound  up  affairs, 
and  seemed  a  serviceable  chaperon  on  the 
night  trip  back  to  Tokio.  In  a  smart-Aleck 
style,  he  took  things  leisurely,  would  not 
hurry.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time.  Don't 
rush,"  he  said,  and  consequently  we  sat  up 
all  night.  The  incident  was  a  very  fair 
sample  of  the  trials  which  come  from  ac- 
cepting a  chum. 

There  was  no  sleeper  on  the  train,  and 
only  one  first-class  car,  a  square  box,  where 
two  could  stretch  out  at  full  length  on  each 
side  and  one  at  the  rear  end.  I  was  the  only 
woman,  and,  as  we  entered,  four  natives, 
lost  in  snores  and  blankets,  were  camped  at 
full  length  for  the  night,  which  left  one 
space  for  the  two  foreigners,  who  must  sit 
upright.  Inventory  of  our  neighbours 
proved  them  most  elegant  passengers,  and 
we  resolved  to  be  wary  of  our  English, 
which  they  would  surely  understand  when 
they  escaped  from  Morpheus,  and  we  highly 
suspected  some  snoring  to  be  a  fake,  to  be- 
tray the  unwily. 

The  insurance  man  was  positive  that  the 


141 


A  IVoman  Alone 

old  chap  opposite,  deep  in  silk  pillows  and 
soft  wraps,  was  a  Cabinet  minister. 

We  wiled  away  the  dark  hours  with  jokes 
and  stories,  the  joy  of  the  Orient,  and  with 
lunch  and  sodas,  the  need  of  the  traveller; 
but  men  never  bear  their  travel  trials  lightly, 
and  before  morning  my  comrade  had  grown 
weary  and  depressed.  He  "  missed  his  bath 
and  shave,"  he  said.  I  missed  a  great  many 
things.  About  eight  o'clock  the  antics  of  the 
Cabinet  minister  lifted  the  gathering  gloom. 
He  called  his  valet,  tumbled  out  of  his 
blankets,  stood  in  the  aisle  immediately  be- 
fore me,  deliberately  dropped  off.  his  trousers, 
and  shot  into  another  and  a  better  pair! 
Such  is  the  simplicity  of  the  native.  Even 
the  cross  Englishman  laughed. 

Ikao  the  Wonderful 

Probably  not  five  in  every  hundred  of  the 
travelling  public  ever  reach  wonderful  Ikao, 
the  very  heart  of  quaint  Japan,  centre  of 
beauty  and  seat  of  loveliness,  ringing  with 
joyous  bird  notes  in  June,  radiant  with  field 
flowers  in  July,  populated  with  old  nobility 
in  August.  If  September  shows  a  diminu- 
tion of  each  charm,  it  has  a  combination 

142 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

of  them  all,  with  the  added  glory  of  the  fire 
and  flame  of  sumac  and  maple  on  the  dis- 
tant hills. 

Four  hours  by  rail  from  Tokio,  through 
a  country  given  to  rice  farms,  land  the  wan- 
derer at  the  bustling  native  town  of  Mae- 
bashi,  where  a  dilapidated  horse-tram  rat- 
tles one  away  for  nearly  two  hours  to  the 
end  of  civilization,  and  a  rik  with  two  stal- 
wart runners  then  bowls  one  for  two  hours 
more  over  the  highways  and  hidden  ways 
and  mountain  passes,  through  glens  and 
divides  and  over  the  ridges,  among  sounds 
that  are  clear  and  smells  that  are  sweet  with 
the  woodland.  By  a  final  swift  spurt,  the 
men  dash  into  the  clean  courtyard  of  the 
Kindayu  hotel,  where  life  will  be  a  joysome 
holiday. 

An  Ideal  Hostess  and  a  Cosy  Inn 

Madame  Kindayu  is  a  wonderful  woman 
and  an  ideal  hostess.  She  is  sufficiently  Eu- 
ropeanized  to  let  her  guests  walk  in  foreign 
shoes  over  her  speckless  carpet.  Her  clear 
voice  rings  out  in  a  sweet  and  fluent  English 
which  might  shame  many  a  foreigner  who 
is  famed  for  harsh  tone  and  ugly  jargon. 


A  Woman  Alone 

Oksan  has  five  little  Japanese  babies,  whom 
she  dearly  loves  and  carefully  tends.  She 
runs  a  native  department  of  three  hundred 
noble  guests,  she  cares  for  all  the  foreign 
visitors,  directs  their  steps,  answers  their 
senseless  questions,  gives  advice  and  informa- 
tion regarding  the  country,  and  never  is 
frown  or  flurry  seen  on  her  kindly  face.  Al- 
ways she  is  dignified,  gentle,  and  affable,  the 
embodiment  of  gracious  tact  and  courtesy. 
Her  husband  is  the  city  mayor,  that  is,  the 
chief  man  in  the  village,  and  most  anxious 
that  all  shall  redound  to  its  credit. 

The  foreigner  has  foreign  food,  and  does 
not  suffer  from  chow  and  chop-sticks,  and 
the  delight  of  the  native  rooms  is  their 
charming  simplicity,  for  the  traveller  worn 
out  with  the  worries  of  life  in  the  city. 
Nothing  is  cramped  or  crowded  in  a  Jap- 
anese home.  The  gewgaws  and  kickshaws 
which  we  pile  up  in  space  would  be  the 
height  of  bad  taste  to  these  people  of  ex- 
quisite ways.  Bed  and  chair  and  table  are 
concessions  to  our  way  of  living,  but  one 
needs  little  else  who  can  look  off  from  the 
dainty  den  across  sweeping  fields  to  rolling 
hills. 

Things  were  semi-primitive  at  the  inn. 
144 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

A  Watson  whiskey  bottle  served  as  candle- 
stick, a  pickle  bottle  of  Father  Heinze  — 
fifty-seven  varieties  —  stood  for  carafe,  and 
the  pegs  were  corks  run  through  with  nails. 
The  little  rooms  were  built  to  fit  the  mat- 
ting, which  is  always  of  exact  dimensions  in 
Japan. 

Mr.  Kindayu  had  not  the  fluent  English 
of  his  wife,  but  he  had  a  kindly  heart,  and 
he  did  his  best.  "  Theez  eez  your  seeting- 
room,"  he  said,  as  I  glanced  at  the  dainty 
quarters,  in  whose  recess  stood  a  single  beau- 
tiful ornament,  behind  which  hung  an  artistic 
kakemono,  or  Japanese  scroll.  Doubtless 
there  were  many  more  lovely  things  hidden 
in  the  go-down,  and  when  the  family  tired 
of  looking  at  these,  they  would  be  exchanged 
for  other  hid  treasure.  Everybody  had  two 
rooms,  and  painted  screens  shut  off  the  bed- 
room, while  rice  screens,  or  Shoji,  separated 
the  private  alley,  and  solid  amados  at  night 
shut  out  the  green  valley  and  the  rugged 
hills. 

I  had  dropped  between  the  spotless  sheets, 
when  the  city  mayor  appeared  on  the  thresh- 
old, dramatically  waving  his  wings  and  cry- 
ing, "  Varee  dangroos,  varee  dangroos." 
"Where  is  it?  I  don't  see  it,"  I  cried. 


A  Woman  Alone 

"  Thieves,  thieves,"  he  added,  as  he  closed 
down  the  boards  which  gave  to  the  lean-to 
that  looked  out  on  the  street.  Evidently  the 
country  was  not  so  innocent  as  I  thought. 
The  next  night  Boots  followed  me  to  my 
den,  pouring  out  the  same  cry,  as  he  insisted 
that  I  lock  up  my  heavy  door  which  led  to 
the  alley,  and  he  spiked  it  with  a  ring  and 
staple  that  reminded  me  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
with  prisoners  chained  to  the  wall. 

Boots  appeared  in  the  morning,  frantically 
waving  a  shoe  in  each  hand,  and  shouting, 
"  You  did  bring  ink,  you  have  got  ink,  ink 
for  your  shoes?  "  "  No,  I  did  not  bring  any 
ink  for  my  shoes.  Do  the  best  you  can,  but 
don't  paint  them  red,"  I  pleaded.  Evidently 
he  gave  them  a  violent  rubbing,  as  the 
leather  returned  much  worn  and  as  if  it  had 
been  trying  a  mud  bath. 

Table  linen  would  have  been  very  tempt- 
ing had  Mr.  Kindayu  known  how  to  handle 
a  foreign  coffee-pot.  He  was  unskilled  in 
serving,  and  spilled  the  beverage  at  every 
meal,  till  the  cloth  seemed  diagramed  like 
a  railroad  map. 


146 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

The  Hot  Springs 

Hot  springs  are  the  safety-valve  of  this 
wild  volcanic  region.  They  are  hissing  in 
the  woodland,  tumbling  over  the  rocks,  and 
roaring  down  the  hillside.  They  dash  in 
torrents  through  the  forests  and  sound  like 
a  raging  storm.  Sometimes  they  leave  an 
inky  pool,  and  again  they  throw  vapourous 
jets.  Iron  and  soda  are  plentiful,  and  the 
baths  of  Kindayu  are  only  mild.  Sir  Brooks 
Boothby,  attache  of  the  British  legation, 
created  amusement  among  his  hearers  by 
querulously  calling  to  the  boy,  "  Make  the 
water  more  hot.  By,  by,  it  is  only  warm, 
make  it  hotter,"  quite  ignoring  the  fact  that 
the  only  steam  heat  which  we  had  was  gen- 
erated within  the  earth,  and  we  were  subject 
to  the  temperature  which  Mother  Nature 
gave  out. 

Ikao  looks  like  old  Naples,  sliding  down- 
hill, minus  the  water,  and  with  the  added 
element  of  cleanliness.  Its  one  main  street 
is  steep  and  straight,  running  very  high,  and 
lined  on  each  side  with  shacks  which  nearly 
overlap,  while  its  steps  are  rough  and  ragged 
rocks.  Here  are  the  tiny  shops  and  go-downs 
with  native  wares.  Ikao  makes  simple  toys 

147 


A  Woman  Alone 

and  very  ingenious  balls  within  balls,  and 
wheels  within  wheels.  It  sells  games  that 
are  the  distraction  of  the  stupid,  and  carv- 
ings that  are  quaint  and  odd,  though  they 
have  none  of  the  intricate  design  and  high 
polish  which  one  sees  at  Nikko.  Cross-cuts 
and  alleys  from  every  quarter  of  the  town 
lead  to  this  main  street,  and  no  one  could 
be  so  desperately  lost  but  that  he  would 
come  out  at  some  time  on  this  chief  alley. 
Through  a  threadwork  of  lanes  rise  the  na- 
tive inns,  in  tier  after  tier,  on  the  mossy 
slopes  of  the  town. 

The  Iron-cloth  of  Ikao 

Nowhere  in  the  empire,  outside  of  the 
little  shops  of  Ikao,  does  one  find  the  famous 
iron-cloth  dear  to  the  native  who  has  im- 
plicit faith  in  its  healing  power.  A  strong 
precipitate  of  iron  is  in  the  bed  of  the 
streams,  and  the  natives  crawl  over  the  rocks 
to  gather  the  deposit,  or  they  spread  their 
garments  on  the  bed  of  the  brooks  to  stain 
them  with  the  mineral.  At  Maebashi,  a 
few  miles  distant,  the  cloth  is  fabricated  in 
large  quantities,  and  brought  up  to  the  vil- 
lage to  lie  in  the  go-downs  till  it  is  needed 

148 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

on  the  counters.     Often  it  is  printed  with 
fish  or  fowl. 

Over  gout  and  rheumatism  and  kindred 
troubles,  it  is  thought  to  have  great  power. 
Prospective  mothers  wear  it  in  heavy  bands 
about  the  body,  as  it  is  supposed  to  give 
great  strength  to  mother  and  child.  This  is 
its  crowning  glory  in  the  mind  of  the  native, 
and  this  is  its  chief  advertising  value.  So 
the  native  explained  with  all  the  naturalness 
of  the  simplest  matter,  using  the  merchant's 
best  plea  for  a  sale,  "  If  the  honourable 
lady-san  want  an  honourable  little  baby-san, 
she  wear  this  yellow  cloth."  What  statement 
could  be  more  true-hearted!  A  baby  is  the 
greatest  joy  of  the  native.  He  would  never 
suspect  that  an  American  lady  would  not 
want  one.  Truly  the  simple  philosophy  of 
the  native  often  puts  the  conventional  for- 
eigner to  the  blush. 

The  Japanese  Mother 

The  Japanese  women  do  not  have  clubs, 
and  therefore  they  have  babies.  By  natural 
logic,  a  woman  does  not  have  time  for  both. 
No  false  prudery  has  debased  natural  law 
among  these  simple  people.  They  speak 

149 


A    Woman  Alone 

readily  and  easily  of  coming  events  which 
are  dear  to  their  hearts.  If  life  is  empty, 
they  always  live  in  hope.  "  Me  no  tink 
mooch  trouble,  my  wife  no  mind  care,  she 
varee  mooch  hope  leetle  baby  sometime,"  is 
the  general  sentiment  in  Japan.  Maternal 
love  has  not  been  killed  by  outside  duties. 
Every  woman's  heart  is  open  to  her  share  of 
babyhood,  and  every  wife  is  disappointed  if 
the  baby  does  not  appear.  Her  baby  goes 
everywhere  that  she  goes,  whether  it  be  to 
the  temple  or  to  the  theatre,  to  the  market 
or  to  the  store.  She  attends  no  meetings 
where  the  baby  would  be  a  nuisance.  A 
father  works  in  the  field  with  the  baby 
strapped  on  his  back.  Old  and  young  are 
indulgent  to  the  newest  baby,  and  there  is 
often  a  long  line.  Very  young  sisters  bear 
the  burden  on  the  back,  and  never  question 
the  propriety,  nor  expect  anything  else,  and 
the  last  baby  is  carried  long  after  he  is  well 
able  to  walk. 

The  Saratoga  of  Japan 

Ikao  is  the  Saratoga  of  Japan,  the  mid- 
summer centre  of  the  old  nobility.  Here 
one  gets  the  best,  perhaps  the  only  glimpse 

150 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

of  the  high-bred  families,  the  crested  people, 
who  descended  from  the  fine  old  daimios, 
that  were  wont  to  march  through  the  land 
with  scores  of  thousands  of  retainers  in  royal 
procession,  the  brave  two-sworded  samurai, 
ready  to  live  or  die  for  their  masters.  Those 
impressive  pageants  were  a  half-century 
back,  before  the  guns  of  Commodore  Perry 
had  thundered  in  the  harbour,  demanding 
an  open  port  in  the  foreign  land.  One  sees 
to-day  the  regal  etiquette  and  gracious  cour- 
tesy which  are  synonyms  for  the  gentle-born 
and  highly  bred  in  the  land.  Lordly  men 
and  courtly  ladies  troop  through  the  leafy 
glens  to  Yumoto,  "  Source  of  the  hot 
springs,"  where  long  dippers  are  chained, 
and  where  they  carry  their  drinking-cups 
to  wile  away  the  hours  with  laughter,  and 
talk  on  the  benches  as  they  drink  the  life- 
giving  iron.  Voices  are  soft  and  sweet,  man- 
ners are  kind  and  gentle,  and  the  attitude  is 
one  of  deference  to  one's  neighbour  and 
effacement  of  self.  Here  are  the  elegant 
toilets  of  the  gentry,  soft  dark  silks  of 
lustrous  sheen  and  heavy  texture,  but  never 
gaudy  colour.  The  quality  is  rich,  and  the 
knot  in  the  obi  is  artistic,  and  each  crest 
denotes  the  special  family.  In  to-day's  pro- 


A  Woman  Alone 

cession  is  merely  a  hint  of  the  culture  of  the 
palmy  past.  We  may  shut  our  eyes  and 
think  of  the  ancestral  dignity,  the  staid  de- 
meanour, the  paraphernalia  and  retinue 
worthy  of  Oriental  kings. 

Etiquette  to-day  is  rigidly  marked  among 
the  blue-bloods  of  Japan.  If  two  noble 
ladies  of  the  same  rank  meet,  both  lower 
their  parasols,  and  stand  exposed  to  the  sun, 
while  all  the  servants  do  the  same.  If  one 
lady  be  of  higher  rank,  the  lady  of  lower 
rank  closes  her  parasol,  and  all  the  retain- 
ers do  likewise,  while  the  lady  of  higher 
rank  remains  protected  from  the  sun. 

By  night  Ikao's  highway  made  fantastic 
showing.  Gnarled  roots  were  drenched  in 
oil,  and  hung  from  the  trees  in  wire  cages, 
and  their  light  was  weird  and  uncertain,  as 
it  flickered  and  flared  along  the  road.  Here 
the  imperial  postman  trotted  along  by  our 
side,  and  made  wild  efforts  to  talk.  Here 
I  ate  roasted  snake  in  the  fitful  glare  of  the 
torches,  and  could  taste  nothing  but  charcoal. 
Another  snake  of  more  venomous  nature, 
warranted  to  cure  all  human  diseases,  was 
preserved  in  alcohol,  but  I  preferred  to  take 
his  medicinal  merits  on  faith. 


152 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

A  Shinto  Shrine 

Down  the  valley  stands  an  old  Shinto 
shrine,  said  to  date  back  two  thousand  years. 
If  it  did  not  stand  in  the  days  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  at  least  it  has  for  many  centuries 
been  sacred  to  Inari.  It  is  approached 
through  fifty  red  torii,  or  arches,  and,  from 
far  and  near,  it  is  the  Mecca  of  faithful  pil- 
grims who  come  for  help  and  healing.  The 
cat  and  the  snake  are  among  the  animals 
which  receive  homage  in  Japan,  and  to  Rey- 
nard, the  wily  fox,  the  superstitious  natives 
bow.  There  is  doubt  about  the  gender,  but 
Inari,  god  or  goddess,  prevails  over  the  rice- 
fields,  and  must  not  be  confused  with  Imari, 
in  the  south,  famous  for  a  certain  china. 

Inari  has  power  to  make  the  harvest  fat 
or  lean  in  the  rice-fields.  The  red  fox  par- 
ticularly must  be  cajoled,  so  red  torii  are 
raised  to  him  in  prayer  and  praise.  Ikao's 
shrine  is  crowded  with  scores  of  fox  images, 
large  and  small.  He  presides  in  grave  dig- 
nity, as  if  his  name  were  never  known  for 
trickery  and  stealth.  When  the  suppliant 
tinkles  the  temple  bell,  Reynard's  messenger 
runs  with  the  prayer  to  the  great  Inari  sama. 
Offerings  innumerable  have  been  brought  to 

'153 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  altar,  and  the  walls  are  hung  with  votive 
gifts,  in  memory  of  answered  prayers. 

For  many  years  a  wise  old  sorceress,  at- 
tached to  the  shrine,  has  been  revered 
throughout  the  realm,  as  she  guarded  the 
temple  and  studied  the  stars.  Her  fame  in 
the  black  art  brings  the  suffering  from  all 
parts.  She  certainly  has  skill  in  jugglery, 
in  necromancy.  Patiently  she  hears  the  tale 
of  woe.  She  shakes  her  box  of  sticks,  and 
out  tumbles  a  certain  number  which  must 
be  found  in  her  sage's  book,  where  she  reads 
the  fate  and  fortune  of  the  anxious  inquirer, 
who  goes  away  sure  that  the  old  dame's  word 
is  a  law  which  one  cannot  escape.  Her  face 
is  strong  and  kind,  and  she,  too,  has  absolute 
faith  in  her  clairvoyance  and  in  the  answer 
of  the  stars.  Wiser  folks  in  distant  lands 
have  talked  of  solar-astro-biology.  Her 
cures  have  been  marvellous,  and  her  hold 
on  the  peasant  world  has  long  been  firm. 
Perhaps  she  is  an  instance  of  mind  over 
mind,  the  stronger  prevailing  over  the  weak. 
With  her  is  the  right  of  succession,  and  she 
has  appointed  her  son  as  rightful  heir  to 
her  glory  when  her  day  is  over. 


154 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  INLAND  TRIP 
Preparations  for  the  Trip 

IF  few  tourists  see  Ikao,  whose  leafy 
groves  and  flowering  fields  are  girt  about 
by  rugged  mountains,  seldom  does  the  trot- 
ter burrow  farther  inland  and  penetrate  to 
the  wild  mountain  fastness,  the  centre  of  the 
boiling  sulphur  springs,  seat  of  invalidism, 
and  Mecca  of  the  sufferer.  It  had  long  been 
the  goal  of  my  travels,  a  dream  and  ambition 
which  were  difficult  of  accomplishment, 
since  obstacles  there  were  many,  hardships 
numerous,  and  companions  none.  But  with 
the  rising  difficulties  came  increased  desire. 
"  Interesting!  Wildly  so,  if  you  can  stand 
the  terrible  sights,  but  I  could  not  endure 
them  myself,"  said  the  experienced  friend. 
A  jaunt  of  seventy-five  miles  by  riksha  to 
the  interior,  through  mountain  passes  and 

155 


A  Woman  Alone 

bamboo  jungles,  over  ridges  and  down  steep 
slopes,  is  bound  to  have  its  stern  discomforts. 
But  once  off  the  beaten  track,  the  tripper, 
hunting  for  experiences,  soon  learns  to  dis- 
card the  comforts  of  home,  and  to  take 
troubles  lightly.  Only  the  sick,  seeking  heroic 
cure,  and  the  venturesome  would  find  any 
reason  for  the  trip.  The  luxurious  and  the 
lackadaisical  keep  to  the  big  cities  and  the 
large  hotels,  run  on  foreign  plan,  smacking 
more  of  home  than  of  the  Orient. 

Wandering  one  day  in  the  precincts  of 
Kindayu,  I  came  upon  a  dapper  little  dude, 
who  might  be  a  prince  of  the  realm,  arrayed 
in  knickerbockers,  boiled  shirt,  and  diamond 
stud,  riding  a  white  pony.  He  was  most 
affable  to  the  stranger,  and  glad  to  air  his 
smooth  English,  so  he  announced :  "  I  am 
the  proprietor  of  the  Ikao  house,  next  door. 
I  am  Mr.  Kindayu's  brother-in-law.  I  mar- 
ried his  sister.  He  gave  me  the  hotel,  wed- 
ding present,  Japanese  custom." 

Evidently  he  was  a  proud  addition  to  the 
Kindayu  circle.  He  took  great  interest  in 
my  ambition  for  the  inland  trip,  but  added: 
"  The  people  who  come  here  never  have  the 
courage  to  go  farther.  Unless  they  are  mis- 
sionaries, they  think  this  is  the  very  centre 

156 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

of  Japan."  He  knew  exactly  the  man  to 
guide  me,  —  a  trusty  old  retainer,  honest  and 
kind,  who  knew  every  foot  of  the  country, 
was  a  good  cook  and  spoke  a  little  English! 

My  heart  beat  high  with  hope.  This 
paragon  of  virtues  seemed  the  prize-package 
in  a  lottery,  and  I  blessed  the  master  of  the 
Ikao  house.  How  could  I  secure  the  worthy 
guide?  He  was  a  servant  at  the  Ikao. 
Oksan  Kindayu  might  not  like  to  have  me 
take  him.  Family  complications  were  in 
sight,  and  I  must  not  strain  peaceful  rela- 
tions. 

I  resolved  to  finesse  a  little  with  Oksan 
Kindayu,  who  had  been  most  kindly  toward 
my  interests.  I  asked  her  if  she  knew  a  cer- 
tain man,  Heihachee,  famed  throughout  the 
countryside?  I  had  heard  him  spoken  of, 
and  could  she  find  him  for  me?  Oksan  tum- 
bled into  the  trap.  Oh,  yes,  she  knew  Hei- 
hachee. He  was  not  busy  now,  and  she 
would  find  him  for  me. 

The  next  morning,  he  salaamed  before  me 
in  the  breakfast-room.  To  see  him  was  to 
trust  him.  His  tawny,  wrinkled  face  be- 
spoke fidelity  and  honour.  He  was  a  hardy 
mountaineer,  and  a  veritable  Fidus  Achates, 
who  would  be  true  to  his  charge,  and  lay 

157 


A  Woman  Alone 

down  his  life  if  needful,  like  the  old  retain- 
ers. More  than  fifty  years  he  had  weathered 
the  seasons  of  Ikao.  His  pyramidal  head 
suggested  Shakespeare.  His  broad  smile 
and  kindly  eyes  were  full  of  friendship.  His 
rugged  frame  was  bent  with  the  battles  of 
life,  and  he  had  been  scarred  in  the  strug- 
gles, but  he  had  not  lost  the  gentle  demean- 
our of  the  unspoiled  native.  His  abbrevi- 
ated tights  were  cut  off  on  the  thighs.  One 
knee  was  circled  with  court-plaster,  and  one 
big  toe  was  heavily  bandaged.  He  sucked 
in  a  ponderous  breath  to  show  respect,  as  he 
doubled  like  a  jack-knife,  and  said:  "Me 
Heihachee.  Me  go.  Oksan  like  Japanese 
chow?  "  No,  Oksan  did  not  like  Japanese 
chow  even  a  little  bit.  He  threw  back  his 
classic  head,  emitted  a  merry  roar,  and  was 
off.  His  aide  was  a  stalwart  young  fellow, 
and  I  knew  that  I  was  very  lucky  in  my 
retinue. 

A  Rough  Ride 

The  mountain  road  was  rough  and  wild 
enough  to  dismay  the  stoutest  heart.  Recent 
heavy  rains  had  gullied  out  the  passes,  loose 
rocks  rolled  down  the  defiles,  boulders  had 

158 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

tumbled  across  the  way.  Muck  and  mire 
made  a  paste  through  the  forest.  But  no 
obstacles  daunted  the  sturdy  men.  They 
were  wont  to  conquer.  Sometimes  they  acted 
as  pushman  and  pullman,  at  other  times  they 
ran  in  tandem.  Often  they  lifted  the  rik 
bodily  out  of  the  ruts,  and  carried  it  apace. 
Frequently  I  alighted  and  trudged  afoot, 
when  I  saw  the  muscles  strain  and  the  per- 
spiration run  in  rivers  from  the  tawny  skin. 
Where  the  way  was  almost  perpendicular, 
old  Fidelity  would  say,  "  Pleeze  getty  down, 
leetle  walky,  moochee  uppee."  Where  the 
freshet  had  washed  away  the  bftdge  in  a 
wild  mountain  region,  rik  and  men  and  pas- 
senger were  packed  away  in  a  primitive 
sampan,  and  ferried  across  by  rope  and 
pulley,  that  we  might  not  be  carried  down 
the  raging  stream. 

At  noon  we  took  a  nap  and  refreshments 
at  a  roadside  tea-house.  After  the  midday 
heat,  we  trundled  on  till  five  P.  M.,  and  rat- 
tled up  to  Hagiwara's  inn.  The  gentleman 
was  fat,  fair,  and  forty,  with  a  retinue  of 
kindly  servants  and  jolly  children.  The 
place  was  not  a  village,  not  even  a  hamlet, 
but  a  clump  of  houses  high  on  a  cliff  among 
the  bushes,  and  quite  suggestive  of  the  Bib- 

159 


A  Woman  Alone 

lical  "  ram  caught  in  a  thicket."  A  stout 
aristocrat  next  door  held  an  elaborate  tea 
service,  and  departed.  I  seemed  to  be  the 
only  remaining  patron,  and  a  suite  of  three 
rooms  was  at  my  disposal.  The  entire  fam- 
ily thought  themselves  worthy  to  untie  the 
latchet  of  my  shoes,  and  then  I  pattered 
across  the  sacred  threshold. 

Heihachee  the  Guide 

Early  in  the  day  Heihachee  handed  me 
a  mysterious  document,  saying,  solemnly, 
"  Master,  Ikao  house."  I  found  within  the 
sealed  packet  a  crudely  drawn  sketch  of  the 
road  we  must  travel,  with  all  stop-overs 
indicated,  and  a  letter  of  presentation  to  the 
affable  Hagiwara.  Surely  one  could  not 
expect  more  generosity  from  a  rival  pro- 
prietor, who  never  expected  to  see  me  again. 
When  I  called  to  thank  him,  after  the  re- 
turn, the  foreign  gentleman  had  been  meta- 
morphosed, and  a  native  proprietor  sat 
behind  his  counter,  comfortably  arrayed  in 
loose  kimono. 

Soon  after  our  arrival,  Heihachee  disap- 
peared, to  return  in  flowing  robe  with  crest, 
and  bringing  a  "  name-card,"  like  any  noble 

1 60 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

guest,  and  as  if  he  did  not  expect  recogni- 
tion in  his  party  gown.  He  inspired  heavily, 
and  began  a  mighty  speech,  which  struck 
terror  to  his  patron's  heart.  "  Me  Hei- 
hachee,  good  guide,  me  go  far  way  all  over 
mountains,  very  bad  roads,  Eeenglesch,  Mer- 
ican  genelmen." 

"What,  Heihachee!"  I  exclaimed,  in  des- 
pair, "  you  go  away  with  English  American 
gentlemen,  and  leave  me  here  to  fight  my 
way  through  the  woods!  You  can't  do  it. 
You  promised  to  stay  with  me,  and  you  must 
see  me  through.  Bring  up  the  gentlemen 
and  we  will  settle  this."  r~* 

He  tossed  back  his  head  with  a  laugh 
and  ran  away,  while  I  was  left  guessing  as 
to  the  doleful  situation.  Then  I  learned  how 
mean  a  thing  it  is  to  be  suspicious,  and  how 
often  we  misjudge  the  native  who  has  only 
our  kindly  interest  at  heart.  Noble,  faith- 
ful old  Heihachee!  How  cruelly  and  bru- 
tally I  had  suspected  him!  He  was  simple- 
hearted  as  a  child,  and  had  only  the  child's 
natural  desire  to  stand  well  in  my  esteem 
and  to  impress  me  with  his  record.  He 
returned  with  a  stack  of  credentials,  which 
told  of  his  services,  how  he  was  tried  and 
trusted  and  had  proved  true,  how  he  was 

161 


A  Woman  Alone 

able  and  intelligent,  though  I  was  glad,  for 
the  truth  of  the  testimonials,  that  they  made 
little  reference  to  his  English  or  his  cook- 
ing! These  certainly  were  weak  points,  not 
greatly  to  be  praised  by  the  best  judges,  and, 
luckily,  they  were  not  essentials  to  bringing 
us  through  the  woods.  Among  his  valued 
papers,  I  found  this  doggerel: 

41  If  you're  in  want  of  a  man, 
You  may  search  through  this  Ian', 
An'  I  trow  that  right  weary  you'll  be, 
Ere  you're  likely  to  find 
One  more  to  your  mind 
Than  Kaidzu  Heihachee." 

He  performed  with  the  dignity  and  solem- 
nity of  an  old  Roman  Senator  in  control 
of  the  empire,  and  he  went  through  his  pro- 
gramme, marking  off  on  his  fingers  the  bill 
of  fare.  "  Mornin',  Oksan.  Wat  you  haf  ? 
Omlet,  bifstek,  'am  an'  eggs,  table  hote." 
This  was  his  notion  of  a  French  cuisine, 
this  was  his  menu,  and  no  chef  in  white 
cap  could  have  been  more  serious.  We  had 
brought  loaves  of  bread  and  tins  of  butter, 
a  frying-pan  and  Indian  meal,  and  he  per- 
formed indigestible  wonders  over  the  em- 
bers. Fish  could  be  had  from  the  moun- 

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In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

tain  brooks,  and  eggs  from  any  cackling 
hennery.  He  cooked  omelet  to  the  queen's 
taste,  and  when  the  boiled  eggs  were  like 
bullets,  and  I  tried  to  bolt  them  down,  he 
moaned  and  groaned  in  pitiful  sorrow,  say- 
ing, "  Oh,  too  bad,  too  bad,  no  can  eat,  all 
cook,  arf  hard,  poor  leetle  fire."  The  rocky 
eggs  were  far  more  than  half-hard,  and,  with 
an  effort,  I  practised  Japanese  heroism. 

Hagiivara's  Inn 

Hagiwara's  bath-boy  was  a  whole  institu- 
tion in  himself.  His  English  was  in  a  very 
minor  key,  and  he  wore  a  dictionary,  which 
he  considered  standard,  in  his  gown.  This 
he  fished  out  and  presented  when  pantomime 
was  insufficient,  and  so  we  came  to  an  under- 
standing regarding  the  essentials,  of  "  can- 
dles —  matches  —  bath."  The  bath  was  a 
"  Sabbath  day's  journey  "  through  courtways 
and  corridors,  under  the  open,  down  several 
flights  of  stairs,  past  tiers  of  lodgings  where 
people  were  packed  as  in  caves  and  boxes, 
to  the  far-away  room,  with  its  great  vat  sunk 
in  the  floor,  where  the  strong  sulphur  came 
rolling  in  hot  from  the  hills. 

Here  the  boy  prepared  to  undress  me.    He 

163 


A  Woman  Alone 

expected  to  administer  the  bath.  I  was  tired 
with  heat  and  jolting,  every  bone  and  mus- 
cle ached  from  the  hard  trip.  A  massage 
would  have  been  acceptable,  and  the  tempta- 
tion was  great;  but  I  was  still  hedged  about 
by  queer  and  unnatural  conventionality,  and 
I  pointed  to  the  door.  What  would  they 
think  in  proper  America  if  I  were  washed 
and  rubbed  by  a  strange  lad!  O  shades  of 
the  proprieties,  and  slanderous  tones  of  Mrs. 
Grundy!  And  yet,  every  native  woman  was 
used  to  being  scrubbed  and  rubbed,  and  the 
boy  did  not  understand  how  the  lady  in  the 
white  skin  could  do  away  with  his  serv- 
ices. 

Then  followed  the  deep  mystery  of  bed- 
making.  The  traveller  who  is  unwilling  to 
be  thoroughly  native  should  carry  his  own 
linen  to  the  interior,  as  he  will  find  no  other, 
and  it  is  sad  to  wake  in  the  night  and  won- 
der what  wretched  leper  may  have  slept 
last  in  those  futans.  One  is  sure  to  wake, 
since  the  natives  plunge  into  revelry  at  all 
hours,  and  the  wicked  flea  makes  an  active 
campaign  with  the  tenderfoot.  His  bite  does 
not  bother,  it  leaves  no  venom  in  the  veins, 
but  his  antics  are  ticklish,  and  when  an  army 
of  fleas  take  one's  spine  for  a  race-course, 

164 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

and  play  tag  on  one's  body,  insanity  would 
be  a  natural  result. 

Old  Fidelity  ordered  in  the  thick  futans, 
or  wadded  quilts,  piled  many  deep.  He 
placed  a  barrel  for  a  pillow,  which  I 
promptly  kicked  to  the  wall.  That  was  not 
his  gentle  way  of  doing,  and  he  wore  a  re- 
proachful look,  as  he  folded  a  futan  in  its 
place.  He  added  a  towel  for  a  half-length, 
as  concession  to  my  strange  foreign  needs, 
and  his  piece  de  resistance,  which  stood  for 
top  sheet,  top  quilt,  and  counterpane,  was 
a  huge  ancestral  overcoat,  with  velvet  collar 
and  cuffs  that  were  vast;  an  army  of  natives 
might  have  snuggled  in  the  folds.  I  re- 
solved not  to  snuggle  in  it  at  all,  and  dragged 
it  to  the  foot,  where  the  futans  were  minus, 
greatly  to  Heihachee's  distress. 

My  experience  with  the  Sendai  rat  had 
made  me  dread  the  beast,  and  I  pointed 
gloomily  to  holes  in  the  wall,  and  expressed 
my  fear.  The  boy  brought  out  his  diction- 
ary, and  I  hunted  for  "  rats."  He  sadly 
answered,  "  No,  no  haf  got,  rats,  no  rats," 
in  the  melancholy  tone  of  the  disappointed 
shopkeeper,  and  I  expected  him  to  add  with 
the  shopkeeper's  usual  hope,  "  will  haf  to- 


165 


A  Woman  Alone 

morrow."     In   Japan,    "  to-morrow "    ranks 
with  the  "  manana  "  in  Spain. 


Heihachee  always  was  one  better  than  his 
word.  He  had  promised  to  reach  our  goal 
on  the  second  day  at  2  P.M.,  and  at  12.30 
we  bowled  into  the  village  square  of  famed 
Kusatsu,  where  the  waters  roared  and  raged 
as  they  tore  from  the  earth,  where  the  fumes 
were  thick  in  the  air,  and  the  odour  of  sul- 
phur could  not  be  escaped.  Women  were 
washing  at  a  large  public  trough.  The  min- 
eral was  deposited,  and  precipitated  in  large 
crystals,  which  made  a  bright  lining  to  the 
tanks,  and  was  scraped  off  and  sold  at  the 
booths  as  souvenirs,  both  in  flour  and  lump. 
Bath-houses  growled  with  their  angry  waters, 
and  clouds  of  smoke  vomited  out  on  the  air. 
Native  inns  of  dark,  seasoned  wood  made 
the  village  centre,  and  their  beautiful  carv- 
ings of  stork  or  dragon  or  wide-spread  fan 
upon  the  gables  could  be  found  in  this  cen- 
tre of  the  empire  only,  and  were  renowned 
throughout  the  land,  as  were  the  boiling 
waters.  Beams  and  buttresses  all  bore  the 
artist's  touch. 

1 66 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

An  Hour  of  Agony 

A  trumpet  sounded  a  semi-military  note. 
The  deserted  village  square  became  alive. 
The  doors  slid  back  in  their  grooves,  and 
from  all  the  inns  crawled  forth  the  lame, 
the  halt,  the  decrepit,  those  who  could  barely 
move,  and  those  who  were  less  disabled. 
For  many  of  them  the  ravages  of  disease 
had  made  life  agony.  Their  long  sleeves 
floated  through  the  square,  and  one  caught 
a  glimpse  of  waving  towels  and  long-handled 
dippers. 

The  doors  of  all  the  bath-houses  closed 
again  behind  the  bathers,  and  for  nearly  an 
hour  there  resounded  through  the  village 
the  short,  sharp,  decisive  bang,  like  an  ex- 
plosive, like  a  repeating  pistol,  while  in 
every  house  was  a  scene  unparalleled 
throughout  the  world,  as  fifty  naked  men 
were  sweating  away  disease  in  the  hardest 
kind  of  work. 

Each  held  a  stout  plank  about  four  feet 
long  and  one  foot  wide,  and,  bending  over 
the  water,  he  leaned  the  plank  on  the  edge 
and  churned  persistently  back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth,  to  mitigate  the  terrible  heat 
of  the  mineral  waters.  At  a  tinkle  of  the 

167 


A   Woman  Alone 

master's  bell,  each  man  put  aside  his  board, 
bound  a  cloth  about  his  head,  and,  kneeling, 
poured  two  hundred  and  fifty  dippers  of 
water  on  neck  and  head  to  prevent  conges- 
tion. Inured  as  the  native  is  to  extreme  heat 
in  the  bath,  no  man  could  enter  here  with- 
out precaution  and  prevision. 

With  the  hope  that  there  had  been  some 
slight  abatement  of  the  terrible  heat,  the 
master  sounded  another  note,  and  the  victims 
took  their  courage  in  both  hands  for  the  final 
plunge  into  the  seething  caldron.  It  seemed 
like  dropping  into  the  jaws  of  hell,  as  the 
steaming  waters  gurgled  up  around  them. 
During  the  beating  I  thought  of  the  "  anvil 
chorus,"  as  they  sang  a  wild  paean  to  cheer 
their  spirits.  A  pall  fell  on  them,  like  the 
silence  of  death,  when  they  entered  the  vats. 
Down,  down,  they  slid  into  the  scorching 
pool.  Not  a  sigh  escaped  them,  not  a  moan 
nor  a  groan,  at  heat  which  would  have  made 
us  shriek  with  pain,  as  the  waters  swept 
about  the  ankles,  rolled  over  the  knee,  up 
the  thigh,  around  the  waist,  across  the  chest, 
under  the  armpit,  and  rose  to  the  neck,  where 
the  invalids  crouched  submerged,  with  only 
the  head  above  water. 

A  few  suffering  women  were  here  also, 
1 68 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

bearing  the  test  with  the  same  sturdy  hero- 
ism. Occasionally  a  tightening  of  the  facial 
muscles,  or  a  catching  of  the  breath,  showed 
how  great  was  their  control,  as  they  waited 
in  the  torturing  water.  It  was  a  strange 
scene,  of  fifty  heads  above  the  surface,  in 
that  silent,  gloomy  room.  At  the  end  of 
each  half-minute  the  master  uttered  a  thin, 
piping  sentence  in  high  falsetto,  to  say  what 
time  had  passed,  how  much  remained,  and 
to  encourage  their  patience.  To  each  re- 
mark all  responded  with  a  wild,  maniacal 
whoop  of  desperation.  Seldom  does  such  an 
agonized  wail  rise  from  fifty  suffering  men, 
and  the  stoical  silence  came  again,  as  in  a 
tomb. 

At  the  close  of  five  minutes,  the  master 
gave  his  last  nasal  chant,  and,  with  a  final 
cry  of  agony,  the  bathers  leaped  from  the 
mad  waters,  which  were  loath  to  give  up 
their  prey.  From  all  corners  came  a  storm, 
as  of  huge  snowflakes,  when  the  little  nesans 
hurled  towels  and  cotton  through  the  air, 
and  gently  rubbed  off  the  parboiled  bodies. 

Not  once,  but  five  times  a  day,  beginning 
soon  after  sunrise,  the  trumpet  calls  its  semi- 
military  note  for  these  five  minutes  of  an- 
guish, and  one  hundred  and  twenty  baths, 

169 


A  Woman  Alone 

covering  a  month,  are  expected  to  effect  a 
cure  of  stubborn  diseases.  Not  only  gout 
and  rheumatism  bring  many  victims  here, 
but  the  most  terrible  skin  maladies  are  ap- 
parent. The  water,  running  in  from  the 
hillside,  so  terribly  hot  and  so  impregnated 
with  sulphur,  passes  rapidly  down-stream, 
and  thus  is  constantly  changed,  and  the  min- 
eral destroys  all  germs,  so  that  no  contagion 
is  feared  from  the  community  bath.  The 
follies  of  youth,  the  madness  of  intermar- 
riage, the  sin  of  wild  oats,  are  frightfully 
in  evidence  at  the  baths.  Arms  and  legs  are 
raw  with  ugly  sores.  Knees  and  armpits 
are  eaten  away  by  vile  disease,  the  flesh  is 
putrid  and  laid  bare.  These  most  afflicted 
parts  are  swathed  in  folds  of  soft  cotton 
before  and  after  entering  the  bath,  as  even 
the  brave  Japanese  could  not  submit  the 
open  flesh  and  the  exposed  nerves  to  this 
awful  heat. 

The  Leper  Village 

A  half-mile  down  trie  stream  is  the  leper 
village,  home  of  the  hopeless,  haunt  of  those 
doomed  children  who  are  segregated  to  live 
alone,  cut  off  from  all  of  human  kind.  The 

170 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

accursed  of  the  race,  these  isolated  ones,  have 
access  to  the  baths  without  rule  or  regime. 
The  waters  flow  madly  on,  and  the  victims 
enter  as  they  like,  and  come  and  go  as  they 
please,  in  nature's  curative  streams.  Men 
and  women  soaked  leisurely  in  the  strong 
sulphur  pools,  as  I  studied  the  worst  that 
comes  in  the  form  of  physical  misery.  Eyes 
were  sunk  in  their  sockets,  ears  were  gone, 
arms  were  decayed,  and  the  ravages  of  hor- 
rible disease  were  evident  on  many  a 
wretched  victim.  In  the  homes  little  babies 
toddled  about,  with  here  and  there  a  sign 
which  foreshadowed  the  dread  enemy. 
Adults  played  at  cards  or  dominoes,  in 
pathetic  effort  to  wrench  a  little  pleasure 
out  of  life's  ghastly  tragedy. 

It  is  claimed  that  there  is  a  ray  of  hope 
for  the  fated  leper,  and  a  woman,  once 
young  and  handsome,  declares  that  eighteen 
years  ago  she  was  cured  of  the  foul  malady. 
With  them  she  lives  and  works,  trying  her 
remedy  on  the  diseased,  and  I  watched  her 
process,  as  she  used  the  powder  of  the  herb 
of  moxa,  and  dropped  it  with  a  burning 
match  upon  the  invalid.  Here  and  there 
she  dropped  her  burning  point,  and  the 
touch  of  flesh  and  fire  was  harrowing.  The 

171 


A  Woman  Alone 

same  calm  stoicism,  the  same  stern  heroism, 
were  apparent  as  at  the  baths.  Not  a  sound 
escaped  the  sufferer.  Rarely  a  slight  shrink- 
ing or  a  twitching  of  the  muscles  showed 
how  keenly  the  nerves  felt  the  torture.  One 
hundred  points  are  burned  in  a  hundred 
days.  Terrible  remedy  for  a  terrible  mal- 
ady, and  one  could  only  wish  that  the  forti- 
tude of  the  sufferer  would  be  rewarded  by 
sound  health  in  a  cleanly  body. 

They  are  living  on  heroism  and  hope, 
doomed  children  of  fate  and  misfortune, 
set  aside  as  in  a  ghetto,  too  often  forgotten 
and  despised.  Whatever  the  cause  of  the 
trouble,  be  it  personal  sin  or  ancestral  heri- 
tage, the  victims  are  only  worthy  of  our 
sympathy  and  our  help.  The  heart  is  wrung 
with  pity  for  their  plight.  What  wonder 
that  of  old  the  leper  sought  the  great  Healer, 
and  pleaded  for  new  life!  What  wonder 
that  the  Heart  of  Universal  Love  was  wrung 
with  such  wretchedness  I  But,  wonder  of 
wonders,  that  the  ungrateful  nine,  when  they 
felt  the  warm  life-blood  coursing  freely 
through  the  veins  again,  forgot  to  return 
praise  and  glory  to  the  Healer.  All  honour 
to  the  native  woman!  All  honour  be  to 
Father  Damien,  to  any  man,  who  has  offered 

172 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

up  the  great  sacrifice  of  life  in  the  world, 
to  isolate  himself  in  the  vale  of  disease,  that 
he  may,  in  brotherly  love,  wipe  out  one 
atom  of  this  foul  misery,  as  he  numbers  his 
days  alone  with  the  victims  who  are  called 
"  Unclean,  unclean." 

A  Night  of  Wondrous  Beauty 

The  third-story  room  needed  no  protec- 
tion from  intrusion,  and  that  night  a  flood 
of  moonlight  entered,  as  I  lay  thinking  in 
the  silence,  wakeful  with  the  memories  of 
that  eventful  day.  Through  the  impressive 
quiet  there  came  nine  silver  strokes.  The 
watch  said  3.30,  which  did  not  explain  the 
ringing  notes.  Was  there  fire  or  danger  in 
the  village?  I  thought  of  the  warders  ever 
watchful  to  warn  these  little  people  against 
fire  and  flame,  which  could  so  soon  sweep 
devastation  among  the  match-box  homes,  and 
I  crept  out  on  the  little  balcony  to  view  the 
sleeping  world. 

It  was  a  peaceful  picture  framed  in  the 
soft,  pale  light,  for  all  the  land  was  at  rest. 
The  sulphur  fumes  rolled  up  in  cloudy  col- 
umns from  the  vat  below,  and  the  wind 
drifted  the  fleeting  clouds  as  they  fluttered 

173 


A  Woman  Alone 

into  space.  Occasionally  a  cloud-bank  sailed 
across  the  full  moon,  which  rode  out  again 
in  regal  splendour.  The  little  brown  homes 
were  distinct  in  the  night,  and  their  glorious 
carvings  of  phenix  and  flower  stood  clear 
against  the  sky.  In  the  distance  lay  the  vil- 
lage of  the  sleeping  lepers,  and  impartially 
the  gracious  moon  shed  her  refulgent  light 
upon  the  hopeful  and  the  hopeless.  There 
was  no  suggestion  of  sad  fatality,  of  suffer- 
ing or  despair.  Serene  peace  rested  over 
the  inland  town.  I  crept  back  to  the  room 
which  was  flooded  with  glory,  and  my  eyes 
fell  on  the  benign  Buddha,  calmly  smiling 
in  his  raised  recess.  About  him  were  green 
boughs,  placed  in  my  honour,  and  before 
him  were  two  unbaked  loaves,  an  offering 
to  the  god,  that  my  visit  might  be  propitious 
to  myself  and  a  blessing  to  the  house. 

A  Break-down  in  the  Forest 

Morning  dawned  gloriously  beautiful.  I 
had  seen  the  sight  for  which  I  came,  and 
merrily  we  bowled  away.  The  grass  spar- 
kled with  the  early  dew.  The  birds  trilled 
their  sweetest  carol.  Every  flower  gave  off 
rich  perfume.  The  firs  were  pungent  with 

174 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

balsam.  The  steep  divides,  the  woodsy 
glens,  the  mountain  slopes,  the  rippling 
streams,  were  full  of  nature's  poetry,  when 
snap,  crash,  crack,  grind!  The  poetry  of 
life  went  out  in  dreariest  prose.  Old  Fi- 
delity stood  still  in  his  tracks,  and  the  rik 
jolted  down  with  a  thud.  The  two  men  con- 
sulted, like  wise  old  Senators,  then  Fidelity 
picked  up  his  courage  and  painfully  an- 
nounced, "  Varee  solly,  riksha  broky,  Oksan, 
leetle  walkee,  five  cho,  fus  village." 

It  was  all  too  true;  the  cart  had  broken 
down  in  the  very  wilds  of  Japan.  Every 
nerve  in  my  body  cried  out  against  such 
injustice.  I  ached  with  the  jaunt,  and  was 
weary  with  the  burden  of  the  sights.  I  had 
no  Japanese  stoicism,  no  heroism  as  reserve 
force,  and  gladly  would  I  have  given  up. 
But  the  inevitable  must  drove  me  on,  and 
I  dragged  wearily  up  to  the  tea-shop  of 
the  village,  and  was  laid  to  rest  on  a  shelf, 
while  the  natives  came  up  to  view  the  re- 
mains. 

The  place  owned  no  riksha,  and  I  mounted 
astride  the  spiny  back  of  a  dirty,  knock- 
kneed  quadruped,  and  drove  my  hands  into 
his  dirty  bridle,  which  promptly  broke,  and 
then  I  clung  to  his  dirtier  mane.  No  word 

175 


A   Woman  Alone 

or  deed  of  mine  could  keep  that  creature  in 
the  "  straight  and  narrow  way."  He  was  the 
most  profound  student  of  nature  that  I  met 
in  Japan.  He  veered  to  every  cliff,  walked 
out  on  every  ledge,  gazed  far  into  the  depths, 
studied  the  yawning  gulfs  on  the  ragged 
edge,  and  no  hammering  of  his  hard  sides, 
nor  cajoling  with  soft  words,  could  win  him 
from  perversity.  If  by  mental  telepathy  he 
had  learned  my  rash  boast,  he  could  not 
have  been  more  determined  that  I  "  should 
not  follow  the  beaten  track."  He  was  bent 
on  original  and  unbeaten  tracks  of  his  own, 
and,  after  two  hours  of  mutual  struggle,  I 
j°gge(l  UP  to  Hagiwara's  inn,  not  like  a 
conquering  hero,  but  like  a  most  despairing 
pilgrim,  and  the  handsome  host,  the  bath- 
boy  and  his  dictionary  seemed  the  dearest 
friends. 

In  the  morning  another  riksha  and  an- 
other runner  were  obtained,  and  at  noon 
Fidelity's  aide  appeared  at  the  tea-house 
with  seven  new  unpainted  spokes  looking 
reproachfully  from  the  repaired  rik.  It  had 
indeed  been  a  smash-up  in  the  wilds. 


176 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Back  at  Kindayu's  Inn 

Never  was  home  more  attractive  to  tired 
traveller  than  the  cleanly  Kindayu  house, 
perched  on  a  parapet,  with  its  real  bed  and 
spotless  linen.  Heihachee  left  me  with  an 
added  credential  in  his  budget.  He  offered 
to  return  the  sardines  and  the  unused  tin  of 
butter.  Honest  old  soul!  He  said  he  would 
keep  the  bread  of  his  own  make,  to  which 
we  had  resorted  when  the  loaves  gave  out. 
He  threw  back  his  pyramidal  head  and 
grinned  among  the  parchment  wrinkles,  as 
he  said,  "  Oh,  too  bad,  too  bad,  Oksan  no 
like,  no  could  eat."  I  lied  heroically,  and 
said  that  they  were  very  nice,  but  I  was  not 
hungry  for  any  more.  As  I  analyze  the 
sentence,  I  believe  there  was  an  unconscious 
glimmer  of  truth  in  the  statement.  I  had 
bolted  one  down,  with  saintly  grace,  to  save 
his  feelings,  but  the  memory  of  that  dread- 
ful dab  of  heavy  brown  dough  will  be  a 
terrifying  souvenir.  I  turned  with  joy  to 
the  Kindayu  menu,  strung  with  pearls  of 
French  which  would  have  astonished  the 
ears  of  the  Academic. 

Faithful,  honest,  old  Heihachee!  As  I 
think  of  towering  forests  and  grim  moun- 

177 


A  Woman  Alone 

tain  ridges,  of  steaming  baths  and  patient 
sufferers,  Heihachee  looms  up,  not  the  least 
among  the  noble  features  of  this  marvellous 
inland  trip.  If  it  be  true  that  "  the  last 
shall  be  first"  in  the  final  casting  up  of 
accounts,  this  tawny,  wrinkled  son  of  quaint 
Japan  will  stand  in  the  vanguard  of  the 
honour  roll.  If  "  he  who  is  faithful  over 
a  few  things  shall  be  ruler  over  many,"  the 
realm  of  Heihachee  the  faithful  will  be  a 
vast  domain. 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 


CHAPTER   IX 

SIGHTSEEING 
The  "  Welcome  Society  " 

THE  "Welcome  Society,"  as  its  name 
indicates,  welcomes  the  stranger,  for  a  con- 
sideration, to  many  an  interesting  corner  of 
Japan.  Originally,  membership  meant  the 
payment  of  fifty  sen,  or  one  shilling,  but 
such  was  the  pressure  for  the  privileges  of 
admission,  and  such  the  revenue  to  the  em- 
pire, that  the  temptation  was  great  for  the 
crafty  natives  to  raise  the  fee,  and  when  I 
arrived  in  the  land  the  officers  demanded 
five  yen,  or  two  dollars  and  a  half,  for  en- 
trance to  the  great  order,  which  speedily 
became  so  unpopular,  and  so  ignored  by  for- 
eigners, that  the  little  people  realized  that 
they  had  overstepped  the  bounds  of  pru- 
dence, and  reduced  their  figure  to  the  com- 
paratively reasonable  sum  of  three  yen. 

179 


A  Woman  Alone 

The  old  Irish-Australian  lady  had  been 
in  the  land  in  the  one-shilling  days,  and 
she  read  them  the  riot  act  on  exorbitance, 
logically  declaring,  "  You  want  everybody 
to  come,  and  you  use  every  means  to  get  us 
here,  and  then  you  make  it  as  hard  as  possi- 
ble for  us  to  see  the  things  of  interest."  The 
official  looked  meek  and  submissive,  and  did 
not  answer,  but  perhaps  the  argument  had 
some  weight,  for  the  price  soon  dropped. 
By  being  a  member  of  this  society,  many 
semi-public  affairs  of  great  interest  are  made 
easy  of  access. 

The  Irish-Australian  lady  was  always  hard 
to  down.  She  alone  trundled  up  to  the 
funeral  of  a  noted  native,  was  admitted  to 
the  mausoleum  on  his  private  grounds,  was 
escorted  to  the  front  seat,  and  was  the  only 
woman  in  an  audience  of  five  hundred. 
When  I  asked,  "  What  in  the  world  were 
you  doing  there?"  she  promptly  answered, 
"What  am  I  in  the  land  at  all  fur,  if  it 
isn't  to  say  all  that  is  doin'." 

The  old  lady  was  in  high  favour  with  a 
certain  clique,  as  she  had  valiantly  defended 
the  conduct  of  our  crew  when  they  met  dis- 
aster, and  were  afterward  vilified  in  what 
she  called  "  a  darty  English  paper."  It 

1 80 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

was  too  much  for  her  honest  blood  to  hear 
abused  the  poor  men  who  had  been  faithful 
in  peril,  and  whose  living  depended  on  their 
character.  She  found  no  man  brave  enough 
or  interested  enough  to  take  up  the  cause, 
so  she  penned  her  own  article  of  defence 
to  the  press,  and  enlisted  the  eternal  grati- 
tude of  the  company.  Its  president  came 
with  noble  steeds  and  flowers,  and  bore  her 
away  in  triumph  to  a  superb  entertainment 
in  his  home,  and  she  was  presented  with  a 
bracelet  of  pearls.  Vials  of  wrath  descended 
when  I  doubted  the  genuineness  of  the  pearls. 
"  Do  yer  be  after  thinkin'  that  a  great  rich 
company  loike  that  would  bay  givin'  a  lot 
of  false  pearls  for  a  reward  of  merit?  "  We 
were  all  ready  to  write  devoted  articles  and 
test  the  point,  but  no  occasion  offered. 

A  Visit  to  an  Asylum 

In  general,  one  gains  admission  to  public 
and  government  institutions  by  applying  to 
the  Prefecture,  but,  for  anything  less  formal, 
a  "  name-card  "  is  the  open  sesame  through- 
out Japan.  A  kindly  soul  awaited  me  in 
the  gravel  court,  where  I  sought  entrance 
to  the  asylum  of  Japan's  unfortunates.  Re- 

181 


A  Woman  Alone 

peatedly  she  flattened  herself  out  on  the 
ground,  then  steered  me  to  the  reception- 
room,  and  settled  me  in  the  solitary  arm- 
chair, while  she  pattered  away  to  find  the 
superintendent,  whose  English  was  limited 
to  the  words,  "  boy,  blind,"  and  we  filled  in 
the  niches  of  talk  with  the  usual  pantomime. 

I  looked  longingly  across  the  pebbled  court, 
to  groups  of  gesticulating  children,  and  he 
comprehended  my  desire  to  visit,  glanced 
doubtfully  at  my  shoes,  but  let  them  pass 
on  the  shiny  floors,  and  I  stepped  lightly 
to  the  schoolrooms,  where  science  and  love 
have  worked  out  so  much  for  the  children 
who  have  lost  so  great  a  part  of  life.  Fif- 
teen deaf  and  dumb  children,  from  six  to 
twelve  years,  sat  on  hard  benches  around  low 
tables  in  a  hollow  square,  and  the  teacher 
taught  articulation.  The  room  was  very 
bare,  her  wooden  table  was  old  and  dingy, 
and  she  had  no  seat.  A  large  mirror  aided 
her,  before  which  the  children  stood,  as  they 
attempted  to  place  the  organs  of  speech. 
Then  the  curtain  was  drawn  across  the  glass, 
and  they  attempted  from  memory  what  it 
had  revealed. 

The  teacher  was  quiet  and  earnest,  her 
features  were  strong  and  tender,  and  pa- 

182 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

tiently  she  worked  with  vowel  sounds,  much 
like  our  own,  "  a-o-u,"  forming  them  into 
syllables,  to  a  word,  and  a  phrase.  Care- 
fully she  placed  the  organs,  as  she  drew  the 
child's  hand  across  her  own  face,  or  placed 
the  lips  of  the  little  one  in  position  to  make 
the  sound  which  was  unheard. 

Eagerly  and  desperately  they  tried,  and 
the  results  were  often  pitiful.  Frequently 
there  seemed  little  likeness  to  the  original 
sound,  but  the  joy  in  the  child's  face  pathet- 
ically bespoke  his  longing  for  success.  Two 
little  boys  made  frantic  efforts,  but  their 
thick,  clogged  words  were  almost  devoid 
of  form.  An  anxious  little  girl  pitched  her 
voice  like  a  shrivelled  old  crone,  and  the 
cracked  falsetto  note  was  shrieked  in  despair, 
as  she  nervously  shook  her  head  and  snapped 
off  from  her  fingers'  ends  the  word  which 
she  knew  her  tongue  should  utter.  Their 
keen  attention  and  their  eagerness  to  do  were 
a  sharp  rebuke  to  the  carelessness  of  chil- 
dren whose  powers  are  complete.  Marvel- 
lous things  could  be  done  through  the  same 
hard  work  by  scholars  who  have  started  un- 
handicapped  in  life. 

I  watched  the  arithmetic  work  in  a  class 
of  older  scholars  who  were  deaf  and  dumb. 

183 


A  Woman  Alone 

As  I  entered,  the  teacher  saluted  gracefully, 
and  all  the  children  rose  and  made  a  cere- 
monious bow.  They  took  no  further  notice 
of  me,  but  each  boy  and  girl  was  eager  to 
be  at  the  board,  to  write  the  results  from 
their  slates,  or  to  correct  a  mistake.  Hands 
bristled  in  the  air,  and,  as  the  teacher  pointed 
to  his  choice,  the  scholar  salaamed  low  be- 
fore coming  to  the  board.  The  little  ones 
were  devoted  to  the  work,  without  hint  of 
disorder  or  neglect.  The  world-famed  cour- 
tesy of  the  natives  was  most  apparent  in  the 
school  routine. 

The  teacher  of  the  next  grade  was  himself 
a  deaf  mute,  and  his  work  was  marked  by 
enthusiasm.  With  a  bamboo  rod,  he  pointed 
to  the  pupil  and  to  the  object-lesson.  Words 
on  the  board  were  illustrated  by  objects  on 
the  table,  and  the  children  were  quick  to 
associate  house,  horse,  ship,  store,  flag,  and 
rejoiced  in  their  success.  I  purposely  took 
the  vacant  seat  beside  a  little  boy,  but  he  had 
prejudice  against  my  foreign  self,  and,  by  a 
series  of  grunts  and  signs,  prevailed  upon  me 
to  take  the  seat  behind  him.  I  could  not 
blame  the  little  chap  for  his  fastidious  whim, 
as  he  knew  nothing  about  me,  and  I  had 
no  right  to  usurp  any  privileges  on  his  do- 

184 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

main.  But  his  pernickety  dislike  for  my 
presence  greatly  shocked,  and  rather  amused, 
the  kindly  superintendent,  and  he  was  un- 
certain whether  to  sympathize  with  me  or 
with  the  child.  The  man  had  won  a  warm 
place  in  their  hearts,  and  they  ran  to  him 
with  fearless  freedom,  to  beg  a  favour  or  to 
give  him  welcome. 

As  recess  time  came,  the  deaf  teacher  gave 
sharp,  quick  moves  to  denote  erect  position, 
to  stand,  to  bow,  to  march,  and  the  pebbled 
court  was  alive,  as  the  little  folks  made  use 
of  the  crude,  open-air  gymnasium,  where  the 
boys  performed  on  parallel  bars,  and  girls 
jumped  in  large  hoops  and  swung  from  the 
rings  which  dropped  from  a  pole  of  many 
radii. 

From  the  study  of  the  mutes  I  passed 
among  the  blind.  The  master  was  dictating 
a  lesson  which  the  little  ones  printed  with 
raised  letters  in  a  frame.  Darkened  eyes 
rolled  heavily,  or  peered  pathetically  under 
the  lids,  as  if  the  afflicted  ones  would  fain 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  soft,  warm  sunlight 
of  the  Orient.  Disease  had  injured  other 
eyes.  Some  little  heads  swung  back  and 
forth,  in  that  pitiful  manner  of  the  blind. 
But  their  touch  was  keenly  sensitive,  and 

185 


A  Woman  Alone 

they  readily  traced  the  raised  text,  and 
learned  the  world's  geography  through 
raised  globes.  Arts  and  trades  were  theirs, 
by  patient  manipulation,  and  carpentry,  sew- 
ing, weaving,  moulding,  were  followed  with 
marvellous  results.  Up-stairs  was  the  realm 
of  practical  industries  and  fine  accomplish- 
ments. Blind  girls  knelt  with  their  teachers, 
stringing  the  long  kato  and  picking  the  dis- 
mal samisen  with  their  ivory  spatula.  Here 
was  the  embryo  of  public  concerts,  of  plain- 
tive quartettes,  and  of  the  weird  music  which 
is  the  high  art  of  the  native  and  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  foreigner.  In  the  sewing-room 
pupils  were  cutting  and  tailoring,  as  they 
knelt  on  the  mats.  Dark  tights  and  bright 
kimonos  grew  under  the  deft  fingers  of  the 
unfortunate  ones,  who  were  thus  working 
their  way  toward  a  practical  livelihood. 


Japanese  ^ 


In  visiting  Japanese  schools,  one  is  struck 
with  the  fact  that  there  is  very  little  life 
work  in  the  art,  and  almost  no  sketching  from 
the  object.  As  all  work  was  from  the  copy, 
I  often  wondered  who  had  the  courage  or 
the  skill  to  make  the  first  "  copy."  The  peo- 

186 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

pie  are  fine  imitators,  copyists,  and  often  the 
schools  showed  me  good  work,  figures  that 
were  ably  done.  To  my  question,  "  Was 
this  from  the  original,"  always  came  the 
answer,  "  It  was  from  a  flat  copy."  I  was 
greatly  amused  to  hear  the  defence  put  up 
in  their  behalf,  that  the  Japanese  were  such 
thorough  students  of  the  human  anatomy 
that  they  needed  no  object  before  them. 
This  assumed,  of  course,  the  perfect  type, 
and  always  the  same  type,  and  admitted  no 
individuality  of  form  or  style,  which  with 
us  is  the  mark  of  genius.  To  catch  varieties, 
to  give  the  distinct  personality  of  a  form,  is 
to  us  the  delight  (and  the  life)  of  art. 

In  the  studio  for  the  mutes,  the  scholars 
did  much  decoration  of  cover-frames,  al- 
bums, books.  The  work  was  all  flat,  and 
the  copy  always  before  them,  and  the  work 
often  seemed  stiff  and  conventional.  The 
superintendent  pointed  proudly  to  the  mural 
decorations,  and  called  his  one  Christian 
worker,  and  best  artist,  to  do  me  a  rough 
sketch.  It  was  very  free-hand  work,  from 
memory,  one  might  say,  and  I  guard  it 
among  prized  souvenirs.  He  dashed  a  few 
quick  strokes,  and  a  rose-bush  with  fair  flow- 
ers grew  upon  the  cheap  brown  paper,  and 

187 


A  Woman  Alone 

a  delicate  butterfly  settled  among  the  petals. 
"  Cho,"  he  called  it,  as  the  pretty  creature 
fluttered  on  to  the  bright  leaves. 

The  School  of  Massage 

The  room  of  the  massage  was  a  most 
interesting  scene,  as  it  stood  for  one  of  the 
best  known  trades  throughout  Japan.  The 
visitor  is  soon  struck  by  the  plaintive  note 
which  resounds  at  night  in  the  byways,  as 
the  masseur  strikes  the  weird  call  which  tells 
of  his  approach.  There  was  science  in  the 
management  of  nerves  and  muscles,  as  teach- 
ers manipulated  the  pupils,  scholars  kneaded 
themselves,  and  pupil  worked  with  pupil. 
Girls  were  stretched  on  the  floor,  propped 
on  the  little  wooden  pillows,  with  clothing 
loosened,  while  quilts  were  dropped  lightly 
on  the  exposed  figures.  The  blind  girl  was 
a  strange  sight,  as  she  felt  her  way  over  the 
body,  skilfully  tracing  muscles  and  nerves. 
The  leader  invited  me  to  a  personal  pound- 
ing, and  I  loaned  my  neck  and  shoulders 
to  the  science,  but  the  strong  little  hands 
crashed  into  my  starched  linen,  and  fast 
demolished  my  blouse,  and  I  recoiled  from 
what  might  be  called  a  "  rub  'er  neck."  In 

1 88 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  next  room  the  boys  devoted  themselves 
to  massage,  and  in  this  school  which  pre- 
sented so  many  lines  of  help  and  service 
to  the  suffering,  nothing  seemed  more  prac- 
ticable than  this  health-restoring  science. 
Scholars  without  special  talent  here  learned 
a  trade  which  lifted  them  above  public  beg- 
gary, and  rendered  them  useful  in  spite  of 
misfortune. 

Only  a  scant  half-dozen  words  of  English 
could  the  leader  speak,  and  no  sentence  could 
he  follow,  but  he  proudly  showed  the  medals 
won  from  the  World's  Fair  for  the  training 
in  his  school,  and  he  showed  many  photo- 
graphs of  our  great  institutions,  one  of  Helen 
Keller  being  orally  taught  by  Miss  Sullivan, 
and  an  autograph  letter  by  Mrs.  Bell  of 
telephone  fame,  whose  personal  affliction 
gave  her  a  warm  interest  in  all  that  per- 
tained to  the  deaf  and  dumb.  She  had  vis- 
ited the  Kioto  school,  and  wrote  in  strong 
faith  for  its  work. 

I  had  decided  on  a  personal  application 
of  massage  in  my  room,  and  resorted  to  sign 
manual  for  expression.  "  I "  (pointing  to 
myself),  "  Kioto  hotel "  (well  known  to  all), 
"massage"  (making  passes  on  my  person), 
"  to-night,  nine  o'clock"  (showing  my  watch 

189 


A  Woman  Alone 

and  making  figures);  "how  much?"  (pre- 
senting money.)  It  is  astonishing  how  far 
a  very  little  goes.  The  man  understood  me 
perfectly,  and  called  to  the  teacher.  I  se- 
cured her  smiling  consent,  and  gave  her  my 
"  name-card." 

That  night,  exactly  on  the  stroke,  she 
left  her  clattering  clogs  at  the  steps,  and 
sent  in  my  card.  She  was  ushered  to  my 
room  in  soft  straw  sandals.  She  slipped 
them  off  at  the  door  and  glided  gracefully 
along  in  her  stockings,  and  with  reverential 
bows  put  me  under  the  bedclothes.  She 
twirled  my  thumbs  and  bent  my  joints,  and 
seriously  studied  the  rigid  wrists  that  were 
stiffened  by  long  sieges  of  gout.  She  was 
all  tenderness  and  sympathy  for  the  suffering 
that  lurked  in  the  frame.  She  made  soft 
passes  from  the  shoulder  down,  following 
gently  the  nerve-lines.  Not  a  word  could 
we  exchange,  but  I  needed  no  medium  of 
language  to  know  that  she  was  giving  me 
the  best  of  her  warm  heart  and  trained  hand. 
She  bent  the  toes  and  twisted  the  ankles,  fol- 
lowing the  legs  and  moulding  the  knees  and 
rubbing  the  thighs  with  the  same  kind  care. 
It  was  funny  enough  to  see  this  wee  creature, 
so  dignified  and  serious,  creep  cautiously 

190 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

on  to  the  bed,  and  kneel  beside  me  like  a  tiny 
kitten.  She  folded  her  shapely  baby  hands 
under  a  cheek,  to  show  that  I  must  turn,  and 
she  rubbed  the  tired  scalp,  and  ran  her  little 
fingers  over  neck  and  shoulders.  It  seemed 
as  if  an  electric  eel  squirmed  its  way  down 
my  back,  as  she  turned  her  knuckles  in  upon 
the  spinal  column  and  worked  them  down 
my  vertebrae.  Her  touch  quieted  and 
strengthened.  She  had  a  strangely  comfort- 
ing power,  and  I  had  drifted  into  a  sleepy 
langour,  when  her  soft  pat  told  me  the 
seance  was  finished,  and  she  slid  gently 
away,  bowing  and  backing  from  the  room, 
a  mass  of  smiles.  Oh,  little  sister  of  the 
tawny  skin,  how  much  the  foreigner  has  to 
learn  of  gentle  grace  and  sweet  demeanour! 
For  over  an  hour  she  had  knelt  beside  me, 
giving  generously  of  her  sweetness  and 
strength.  In  her  eyes,  fifty  sen  were  a  boun- 
tiful requital  for  an  hour  of  life's  service. 
But  the  nervous  foreign  lady  thought  twenty- 
five  cents  a  small  return  for  the  offering  of 
physical  strength  and  kindly  love. 

The  Geishas 

If  one  word,  above  all  others,  strikes  a 
chord  of  interest,  and  draws  the  stranger  like 

191 


A  Woman  Alone 

a  magnet,  in  Japan,  it  is  that  of  Geisha. 
The  charms  of  the  geisha  girl  have  been 
read  and  written  and  sung,  till  the  name  is 
a  synonym  for  the  flowery  kingdom,  and  the 
avowed  object  of  every  man's  visit  is  an  ac- 
quaintance with  these  little  charmers.  The 
school  which  fits  these  young  women  in  those 
fine  accomplishments  which  have  made  the 
name  renowned  through  the  world  is  one  of 
the  most  interesting  features  of  the  land. 

The  preconceived  ideas  of  the  fair  lady 
are  often  shattered  by  personal  contact.  I 
had  heard  of  her  as  coy  and  artless  and  inno- 
cent, loving  and  winning,  modest,  fascinat- 
ing and  beguiling,  and  I  was  not  ready  for 
the  astonishing  statement  of  the  cranky  old 
maid  who  had  studied  the  girl  for  fifteen 
years  and  declared,  "  They  are  stealthy, 
wicked  little  cats,  cats,  all  of  them,  and  they 
do  not  seem  to  have  a  human  instinct." 

This  was  a  slap  in  the  face,  a  rude 
awakening,  after  one  had  indulged  the 
fanciful  notions  of  literature,  and  had 
heaped  charms  unlimited  about  the  geisha. 
"Is  she  morally  impossible?"  I  asked. 
"  Not  positively  impossible,  but  she  is  mor- 
ally improbable.  All  her  wiles  and  graces 


192 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

are  for  the  ruin  of  her  victims,  and  seldom 
is  she  better  than  an  outcast." 

Thus  pleasant  theories  were  swept  away, 
and  the  pretty  geisha  girl  became  the  em- 
bodiment of  vice  made  easy,  if  I  was  to  be- 
lieve the  bald  statement  of  the  harsh  critic, 
which  I  did  not  accept  without  reserve. 
Fifteen-year  residents  may  have  knowledge, 
and,  likewise,  they  may  have  violent  preju- 
dice and  vehement  expression. 

A  Dancing  Lesson 

The  geisha  is  the  public  dancer,  all  will 
admit,  but  "  dancing,"  in  our  sense,  does  not 
exist  in  Japan.  No  spinning  top  reel,  or 
grasshopper  jump,  with  awkward  bounce 
and  breathless  hurry  of  the  Western  world, 
would  ever  mark  or  mar  the  graceful  sweep 
of  the  geisha's  movements.  Slow  lines,  easy 
waves  of  motion,  pretty  attitudes,  and  gentle 
poses  constitute  the  dance,  which  is  taught 
and  performed  individually.  One  cannot 
picture  two  geishas  wheeling  about  in  each 
other's  arms.  Old  age  and  homeliness  do 
not  shelve  a  teacher  in  Japan.  The  years 
which  ripen  one's  experience  add  authority 
and  weight  in  the  land  where  age  is  hon- 

193 


A  Woman  Alone 

cured  and  wfiere  ancestors  are  venerated, 
and  women  old  and  wrinkled  are  strong  in 
the  teaching  force. 

A  child  of  eight  or  a  miss  of  eighteen  was 
put  through  her  paces  by  the  old  duenna, 
who  did  not  rise  from  her  knees,  but  indi- 
cated, as  she  bent  her  body,  what  should 
happen  on  the  stage.  The  long  sleeves  un- 
folded gracefully,  and  wrapped  themselves 
again.  They  swirled  in  wraith-like  form 
about  the  little  body.  With  gentle  voice  and 
friendly  glance  the  teacher  directed,  and 
with  meek  obedience  the  pupil  imitated. 
She  pattered  softly  across  the  stage,  flung 
wide  her  sleeves,  toyed  with  the  big  folds. 
It  was  a  Loie  Fuller  performance,  looking 
not  to  colour  and  lime-lights  for  success,  but 
depending  wholly  on  grace  of  motion.  She 
scampered  back,  wheeled  quickly,  and  bent 
so  that  the  narrow  draperies  fitted  tight  to 
the  small  form.  At  a  rap  of  the  teacher's 
wand,  the  pretty  foot  descended,  thud,  upon 
the  floor,  while  the  other  poised  above. 
Then  the  midget  in  flowery  kimono  twirled 
and  pirouetted  on  her  dainty  toes  like  a 
whirling  rainbow.  The  airy  motions  of  her 
arms  suggested  the  bird-play  of  our  kinder- 
garten. The  pupil  relaxed  her  muscles  with 

194 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  ease  of  a  Delsarte,  while  the  old  lady 
swung  her  head  backwards  and  sidewise, 
dramatically  rolled  her  eyes,  and  threw  coy 
glances  over  her  shoulder.  It  was  a  quaint 
attempt  to  beguile  and  to  fascinate.  It  was 
studied  national  art,  followed  solemnly, 
worked  out  religiously  by  the  little  mimic. 
Had  she  been  performing  the  sacred  rites 
to  her  dead  ancestors,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  serious,  more  conscientious  in  her 
effort.  Not  a  side  glance,  nor  the  shadow  of 
a  smile,  betrayed  a  thought  beyond  the  les- 
son. The  coquetry  of  the  fan  drill  showed 
the  same  stately  dignity,  almost  stern  in  its 
exactness.  Each  twirl  and  twist,  each  flutter 
and  turn,  had  weighty  value,  and  must  be 
made  with  thumb  and  fingers  at  the  proper 
angle,  with  hands  adjusted  to  a  code  of  fan 
etiquette  which  was  only  known  to  the  high 
bred.  Any  omission  in  the  attitudinizing 
stamped  the  performer  as  a  wretched  bun- 
gler. The  teacher's  quick  rap  of  the  wand 
on  the  stool  meant  another  fleet  dash  of  light 
feet  across  the  stage,  and  the  lesson  ended 
with  low  bows  and  airy  flutters. 


195 


A  Woman  Alone 
A  Music  Lesson 

Of  equal  interest,  and  of  equal  difference 
from  anything  we  know  in  the  name  of 
music,  is  the  other  lesson  of  the  little  people, 
and,  as  catcalls  sounded  through  the  thin 
partitions,  I  entered  the  music-room,  to 
watch  the  stiff  gestures  of  the  clubs,  raised 
parallel,  perpendicular,  at  right  angles,  to 
fall  with  a  bang  on  the  drums,  and  perhaps 
stir  those  famed  forty-seven  ronins  from 
their  long,  cemetery  sleep.  Near  by  stood 
the  native  hibachi,  and,  as  the  lesson  ended, 
the  teacher  drew  the  finely  shredded  weed 
from  her  pouch  and  bent  her  long  pipe  in 
the  embers  of  the  brazier,  to  puff  contentedly 
the  three  little  puffs  which  are  the  native 
pipe's  capacity.  Her  honest  effort  had 
earned  her  the  comfort  which  came  with  the 
smoke. 

Other  musical  aspirants  crooned  their  dis- 
mal wails  above  stringed  instruments,  and 
another  old  lady  struck  shrill  falsetto  notes 
for  them  to  follow.  It  was  a  wild  attempt 
in  the  name  of  Apollo,  and  Orpheus  must 
have  done  sweeter  things  than  this  to  move 
the  stones,  but  I  had  listened  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  musical  culture  in  the  dismal  shrieks 

196 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

of  the  cherry  feteSj  and  I  recognized  that 
these  amateurs  were  well  on  the  road  to 
fame  and  glory. 

A  Lesson  in  Tea  Service 

Tea  service  is  a  solemn  rite,  time-honoured 
and  royal.  It  is  the  test  of  elegance,  of  quiet 
dignity  and  repose.  There  is  precision  in 
every  move  of  the  tea  maiden.  As  I  watched 
the  little  lady,  no  drop  of  water  fell  outside 
the  bowl.  All  the  steps  were  performed  in 
our  presence.  Daintily  she  rinsed  the  dish 
and  tenderly  she  wiped  it.  Exactly  she 
measured  with  her  little  scoop,  and  grace- 
fully her  twirling  bamboo  brush  mixed  the 
liquid.  She  replaced  each  object  with  taper- 
ing fingers  that  were  straight  and  firm. 
Every  move  declared,  "  I  am  so  honoured 
in  rendering  you  this  service,  my  noble 
guest,  that  I  cannot  be  too  dainty,  too  deli- 
cate, and  too  thoughtful  in  every  act.  My 
very  best  efforts  cannot  do  justice  to  your 
noble  presence."  Gentle  courtesy  and  ex- 
quisite compliment  are  implied  in  the  deco- 
rum of  the  elaborate  tea  service,  which  was 
amplified  and  emphasized  by  the  old  emper- 
ors, and  especially  by  the  redoubtable  Hidi- 

197 


A  Woman  Alone 

yosha,  to  impress  the  worth  of  ceremony 
upon  his  courtiers,  and  to  lead  long  hours  in 
fruitful  meditation  rather  than  in  idle  gos- 
sip. It  is  the  fine  edge  of  culture  and  the 
acme  of  politeness.  We  admire  rather  than 
ridicule  it  when  we  realize  its  deep  signifi- 
cance, and  we  of  the  hurried  age  and  the 
worried  life  may  rejoice  in  a  people  who 
have  time  for  long-drawn-out  elegancies  of 
reposeful  etiquette.  The  elaborate  tea  cere- 
mony is  the  sine  qua  non  in  a  broad  educa- 
tion. It  is  a  prime  essential  in  correct  de- 
portment, and  the  brusque  and  independent 
nations  cannot  easily  grasp  its  value  and 
importance,  nor  do  we  readily  catch  its  fine 
details. 

The  little  maid  passed  the  steaming  drink 
to  the  ancient  teacher,  who  bowed  in  grate- 
ful appreciation  and  rattled  down  the  bev- 
erage. Drinking  is  no  silent  art  among 
the  Japanese,  and  noisy  swallowing  is  per- 
fectly consistent  with  propriety. 

The  maid  passed  me  a  twin  bowl,  and  I 
resolved  on  gastronomic  heroics.  But  the 
floating  green  flakes  caught  and  choked  me, 
and  I  faithlessly  relinquished  my  test.  The 
lifeless  brown  wafers,  which  looked  like 
fried  potatoes,  were  much  better.  But  I  had 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

made  a  bad  break  in  good  manners.  A 
look  of  astonished  sorrow  passed  across  the 
teacher's  face  as  her  pupil  poured  away  my 
wasted  grounds.  I  had  my  object-lesson  in 
self-control.  A  lady  from  the  geisha  school 
would  have  strangled  at  her  task,  in  the  last 
gasp  of  tortured  etiquette,  ere  she  would 
have  grieved  her  hostess  by  wasting  one  leaf 
or  one  drop  of  the  treasure  so  carefully  pre- 
pared. She  would  have  swung  her  bowl  till 
the  last  leaf  swirled  into  place,  and  she 
would  have  gurgled  down  the  last  drop, 
though  it  sounded  like  a  death-rattle,  out  of 
friendly  consideration.  In  their  duty  to 
decorum,  the  cultured  Japanese  can  never 
falter,  even  though  Spartan  heroism  be  a 
part  of  their  politeness. 


199 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    BUDDHIST   UNIVERSITY   AND   THE   JUDO 
SCHOOL 

Buddhism  in  Japan 

SHINTOISM,  the  native  religion  of  Japan, 
has  its  rival  in  the  imported  faith  of 
Buddhism,  brought  in  by  way  of  Korea, 
and  its  rites  have  been  degraded  by  the  evil 
practices  of  its  leaders.  The  debauchery  of 
the  Hongwangi  chief,  his  extravagance  and 
consequent  indebtedness,  caused  trouble 
among  the  followers.  Since  the  emperor 
is  considered  divine,  his  relative,  the  lord 
high  abbot,  was  a  being  so  nearly  divine 
that  it  was  a  difficult  matter  to  reprove  the 
gentleman  for  his  sins.  His  son,  an  exalted 
ascetic,  bears  proof  of  pure  life  in  face  and 
manner.  When  the  followers  demanded 
that  the  father  should  curtail  expenses  and 

200 


THE  FAMED  BUDDHA  OF  KAMAKURA 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

renounce  his  profligate  mistress,  the  wicked 
gentleman  positively  refused  to  give  up  the 
pleasures  of  sin.  So  great  a  storm  was 
raised  that  the  objectionable  lady  voluntarily 
withdrew  from  the  temple,  and  father  and 
son  united  in  an  appeal  to  the  temples 
throughout  the  land  for  a  payment  of  the 
debt.  So  we  see  that  church  troubles  are  as 
possible  among  the  pagan  as  among  the 
Christian  sects!  The  result  was  a  religious 
revival  in  the  land,  and  a  call  for  the  purifi- 
cation of  the  Buddhist  faith. 

An  Irish  Buddhist 

The  old  Irish-Australian  lady,  advanced 
theosophist  and  incipient  Buddhist  and  all- 
round  crank,  had  in  tow  an  Irish  ex-priest, 
sycophant  and  parasite,  who  was  ready  to 
embrace  any  doctrine  which  meant  no  work 
and  fruitful  returns.  He  claimed  to  have 
studied,  long  years,  the  occult  science  in 
India.  He  had  been  denounced  by  an  ex- 
missionary,  editor  of  The  Voice,  in  Tokio, 
and  was  challenged  to  an  argument.  Though 
the  old  lady  was  willing  to  believe  in  the 
Irishman,  with  limitations,  she  did  not  wish 
him  to  run  on  to  sure  ruin,  and  offered  her 

2OI 


A  Woman  Alone 

advice,  when  he  declared  he  should  answer 
the  challenge. 

"  Shure  an'  ye'll  do  no  sich  thing.  Ye 
can't  answer  thim  argumints.  Ye  ain't  got 
the  wisdom  nar  the  larnin'  ter  open  yer 
mouth,  an'  yer  must  jist  kape  still." 

It  was  difficult  to  down  the  Hibernian 
fakir,  but  the  old  lady  prevailed,  and  then 
we  accepted  his  invitation  to  the  Buddhist 
University,  seat  of  mystic  learning,  in  a 
grove  outside  of  Tokio.  He  met  us  at  the 
station,  robed  in  flaming  orange.  He  looked 
like  a  cutthroat  playing  a  saintly  role.  His 
two  brethren  were  less  conspicuous  in  gray 
togas.  It  would  have  cost  a  mite  to  pass 
the  turnstile  with  a  platform  ticket,  so  they 
waited  just  beyond,  and  their  sandals  scuffled 
through  the  dust  as  we  made  our  way  to  the 
jogging  tram. 

"  You  will  kindly  pay  our  fares,"  said  the 
Irishman,  with  calm  assurance. 

"  Och,  indade,  shure  we  will  that,  with 
plisure,"  said  the  old  lady. 

The  Buddhist  University 

Students  on  the  grounds  fiercely  batted 
tennis-balls,  and  crowds  were  assembled  in 

202 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

a  long,  low  shed  to  watch  a  fencing  bout. 
Hundreds  of  students,  squatting  outside  the 
ring,  looked  on  with  breathless  interest.  The 
foreign  ladies  were  put  in  a  safe  corner  to 
watch  the  display  of  warlike  struggle.  The 
opponents  looked  and  fought  like  fiends  in- 
carnate. They  wore  stout  cuirasses,  worsted 
gloves,  wicker  masks,  and  they  furiously 
flourished  bamboo  swords  with  a  zeal  that 
would  drive  many  a  Mars  from  the  field  of 
battle.  The  umpire  kept  close  watch,  and 
judges  made  frequent  notes.  A  favourite 
fighter  despatched  a  worthy  line  of  foes,  but 
a  stronger  combatant  drove  him  from  the 
ring  amid  thundering  applause  for  the  vic- 
tor. Beyond  the  ring,  contestants  dressed 
and  undressed  with  the  unconventional  ease 
of  the  native.  Winners  received  testimonials 
of  their  skill,  tied  in  coloured  ribbons.  A 
cord,  across  the  room,  blazed  the  names  of 
the  victors,  and  the  number  of  their  victories 
was  streaked  in  red. 

It  is  never  easy  to  guess  ages  in  Japan, 
where  children  are  early  responsible,  and 
mere  babies  care  for  the  younger  babies. 
Two  infants  stepped  into  the  ring  and 
opened  a  lively  contest.  The  youngest 
looked  scarcely  seven  years,  and  fought  like 

203 


A  Woman  Alone 

an  avenging  fury  as  he  plunged  toward  the 
foe  and  whacked  the  air  with  violent  strokes. 
When  his  blows  struck  our  way,  we  dodged 
under  the  table,  while  I  meekly  demanded, 
"  Is  this  the  reformed  Buddhism  of  your 
mystic  university?  Is  this  warring  process 
illustrative  of  the  peaceful  doctrine  of  occult 
India?" 

"  An'  shure  I'll  not  be  afther  a-tellin'  yer 
till  I  say  miself  out  o'  this  aloive,  wid  me 
head  on  me  shoulders,"  said  the  scared  theos- 
ophist.  When  the  youngster  was  safely  cor- 
ralled, the  priestly  orangeman  urged  us  to 
peep  out,  and  led  us  to  the  peaceful  audi- 
ence-room of  the  wise  Swami  Rah  Tirth. 

Swami  Rah  Tirth 

To  the  faithful,  calling  for  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  faith,  he  seemed  the  bright  star 
in  the  night,  pointing  to  a  resurrection.  He 
was  the  embodiment  of  the  doctrine.  His 
mind  was  regarded  as  a  well  of  wisdom  and 
his  life  as  an  open  book.  Long  years  of 
concrete  and  abstract  study,  of  mathematical 
and  scientific  work  in  the  university  of  La- 
hore, of  occult  meditation  beneath  the  snowy 
Himalayas,  had  ripened  him  in  knowledge. 

204 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

He  was  devout  in  practice,  a  true  disciple 
of  great  Buddha.  The  people  looked  upon 
him  as  the  Saviour  of  their  faith,  the  Luther 
of  reform.  "  Prove  all  things,  choose  that 
which  is  best,"  was  his  motto,  and  his  heart 
was  fixed  on  the  salvation  of  Japan.  When 
that  is  done,  he  promised  that  he  would 
cross  and  attempt  the  regeneration  of  Amer- 
ica! Such  is  his  lofty  aim,  and  he  evidently 
did  not  realize  what  a  big  contract  he  was 
blocking  out.  He  had  a  kind,  true  face,  a 
winning  smile,  a  gracious  manner.  He  was 
eager  to  visit  our  vast  land,  and  he  gave  a 
heavenly  smile  as  I  told  of  our  own  snowy 
heights,  which  are  no  unworthy  rivals  of  the 
great  Himalayas. 

In  the  upper  chamber  were  assembled  the 
men  of  wisdom.  The  president  of  the  uni- 
versity, the  editor  of  the  theosophical  maga- 
zine, priests  of  the  temple,  drank  the  inevi- 
table tea  with  the  Swami  and  his  two  Indian 
attendants,  stunning  men,  with  tawny  skin, 
flashing  eyes,  and  raven  hair.  To  the  true 
Buddhist  even  eggs  are  forbidden,  since 
they  contain  the  germ  of  life.  The  old  lady 
had  sent  to  her  sycophant  a  mammoth 
sponge  cake,  and  he  asked  if  it  contained 


205 


A  Woman  Alone 

any  of  the  forbidden  product,  and  she  lied 
with  Irish  ease. 

"  Indade,  don't  I  know  yer  rules,  and  wud 
I  bay  afther  makin'  yer  throuble?  Not  a 
sign  av  an  igg  wuz  ther  in  it."  Later  she 
gleefully  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  It's  not  me- 
self  that  makes  sponge  cake  without  the 
iggs,  and  ther  wuz  iggs  enough  ter  make  it 
good.  The  poor,  starved  crittur  shud  have 
wan  rich  bite  in  his  life." 

We  were  the  only  women  and  the  only 
foreigners  on  the  platform,  and  it  was  very 
infra  dig.  to  cross  the  spotless  matting  in  our 
shoes,  but  the  lady,  fat  and  lame,  rebelled 
when  sandals  were  presented,  and  readily 
gave  account  of  her  remarkable  shoes,  that 
they  "  nivver  tuk  dust,  they  have  no  hales, 
an'  are  worn  a-purpose."  The  natives  did 
not  quite  see  the  logic,  and  scanned  the  for- 
eign shoes  most  critically,  but  they  were  too 
polite  to  resent  her  assurance,  so  the  great 
concession  was  granted,  and  we  tiptoed  along 
in  shoe  leather,  like  guilty  sneaks,  while 
every  man  left  his  shoes  outside,  and  entered 
barefoot,  or  in  his  stockings. 

Several  hundred  students,  including  three 
earnest  women,  squatted  on  the  mats,  below. 
A  native  orator  spoke  on  the  "  Comparative 

206 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Merits  of  Buddhism  and  Christianity," 
while  we  longed  to  know  his  argument;  but 
the  occasional  word  "  Christo,"  was  the  only 
hint  we  caught  of  a  discourse  which  would 
have  been  pregnant  with  interest  to  the 
Christian  hearers. 

An  Indian,  who  introduced  the  Swami, 
had  no  Japanese,  but  spoke  in  fluent  English 
to  his  enlightened  audience  which  was  gen- 
erally familiar  with  our  tongue.  He  told 
of  the  periods  in  the  leader's  life,  of  early 
activity  and  later  seclusion,  of  his  profound 
scholarship,  his  high-grade  mentality,  gained 
by  self-projections  into  the  astral  realms, 
where  mind  travels  apart  from  the  body. 
The  speaker  was  a  queer  colour-scheme  in 
blue,  with  dark  trousers  and  long  coal,  broad 
white  belt,  and  light  blue  vest  and  heavy 
muffler.  The  outfit  seemed  a  misfit  suit 
donated  by  foreign  army  and  navy.  As  he 
closed,  amid  applause,  a  band  of  dwarfs 
struck  up  on  two  accordions,  two  drums,  and 
a  pair  of  cymbals.  The  leader  played  a 
piercing  flute,  and  the  big  base  drum  was 
much  larger  than  the  little  boy  who  banged 
it. 

The  gentle  Swami  took  his  place  amid 
accordion-pleated  music,  and  waited  to  be 

207 


A  Woman  Alone 

heard.  His  colour-scheme  was  brilliant  yel- 
low, and  he  made  a  unique  picture.  His 
head  was  Shakespearian,  and  his  glazed 
scalp  bristled  with  abbreviated  spikes. 
Kindly  eyes,  with  gold-rimmed  spectacles, 
looked  from  under  his  high  forehead.  His 
tawny  features  were  wreathed  in  a  perpetual 
smile.  His  narrow,  bright  robe  fell  to  his 
feet.  Above  it  dropped  a  gown  of  gay 
orange.  Around  him  swept  a  salmon-col- 
oured shawl. 

His  English  was  finished,  and  his  first 
sentence  was  an  inspiration:  "Sisters  and 
brothers!  Gods!  what  a  blessed  sight  it  is 
to  look  into  so  many  serene  and  happy 
faces."  His  lecture  was  an  exalted  tribute 
to  self-sacrifice.  His  manner  was  vehement. 
He  had  no  notion  of  vocal  training,  and  he 
roared  with  a  violence  that  rubbed  off  the 
velvet,  and  left  him  cracked  and  hoarse.  As 
his  voice  grew  huskier,  he  approached 
strangulation.  It  would  have  been  funny, 
if  it  had  not  seemed  dangerous.  The  strict 
principle  of  caste  forbids  a  true  Buddhist 
to  use  the  receptacle  of  another,  and  the 
Swami  ignored  the  glass  of  water  brought 
by  an  attendant,  as  a  previous  speaker  had 
used  the  glass,  and  he  struggled  on  with  his 

208 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

hoarseness.  He  threw  back  his  salmon  shawl, 
and  drew  from  mysterious  depths  a  pink 
table-cover,  which  he  vigorously  used  as 
handkerchief,  and  bunched  it  away  under 
his  armpit.  Faster  he  spoke,  and  hoarser  he 
grew,  as  the  beaded  drops  rolled  down  his 
face. 

Indian  orators  do  not  imitate  the  classic 
and  the  statuesque.  They  speak  with  fiery 
ardour,  and  are  soon  physically  exhausted. 
The  Swami  grew  tired,  but  his  placid  smile 
returned  as  he  drank  tea  and  nibbled  sponge- 
cake, in  the  upper  chamber,  and  discussed 
abstraction  and  the  bliss  of  Nirvana.  Swami 
Rah  Tirth  is  a  wise  student,  and  he  is  gentle 
and  good.  He  believes  in  his  mission  to 
reform  the  people  who  have  fallen  so  far 
from  the  first  truths  of  Buddha.  The  gos- 
pel of  universal  brotherhood  and  everlasting 
love  he  would  revive  throughout  Japan. 
It  sounds  very  much  like  the  teaching  of  the 
gentle  Jesus,  and,  whether  it  be  practised  in 
India,  in  Nazareth,  or  in  Japan,  it  is  the 
light  and  life  of  the  world.  The  Swami's 
face  reflects  his  doctrine,  and  attests  a  mys- 
terious and  abiding  peace,  "  which  passeth 
all  understanding,"  and  is  good  to  have.  His 
kindly  wishes  were  sounding  in  my  ears  as 

209 


A  Woman  Alone 

we  turned  to  the  station,  accompanied  by 
the  Irish  protege,  of  cat-like  step,  who  pre- 
sented a  deplorable  contrast,  and  who  left 
us  with  profuse  adieus  and  the  calm  com- 
mand, "  You  will  kindly  pay  my  fare  to 
Megura." 

Professor  Kano  and  His  Judo  School 

A  contrasting  institution,  of  equal  fame  in 
the  land,  is  the  Judo  school  of  Professor 
Kano,  its  founder,  who  is  a  unique  factor  in 
the  country.  As  Kano  was  journeying  in 
China,  Tomita  Tsunejira  carried  on  the 
school  and  received  the  guests.  Red  tape 
and  a  special  permit  secured  the  entry,  and 
repaid  all  effort.  A  score  of  men  jumped 
to  their  feet,  as  my  riksha  rolled  into  the 
court.  Spectators  are  always  drawn  to  the 
school,  and  there  were  idlers,  and  coolies  in 
blue.  The  lobby  seemed  a  dressing-room, 
where  scores  of  suits  were  pigeon-holed,  and 
where  clogs  awaited  their  owners.  The 
urbane  manager  smiled  sweetly  and  bowed 
low  to  my  card  of  introduction,  and,  in 
stockinged  feet,  I  curled  up  like  a  Turk 
on  the  platform,  while  a  score  of  sturdy 
men  tumbled  and  bumped  and  rolled  and 

210 


PROFESSOR    KANO 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

spun,  landing  on  the  classic  floor  which,  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  had  trained  athletes 
and  developed  wrestlers  renowned  through- 
out Japan.  The  unfurnished  room  was  the 
cradle  of  physical  skill,  the  spot  where  many, 
by  scientific  training  rather  than  by  weight 
or  power,  have  learned  how  to  handle  men. 
Professor  Kano,  known  as  the  "  Father 
of  modern  wrestling,"  is  a  philanthropist, 
loved  by  his  people.  His  skill  and  his  devo- 
tion have  given  to  the  Japanese  their  repu- 
tation as  the  best  tumblers  and  the  most 
daring  acrobats  in  the  world.  Neither  he 
nor  his  manager  nor  his  teachers  receive  a 
penny  for  their  work.  Love  and  enthusiasm 
inspire  the  workers.  Professor  Kano  has  no 
desire  to  be  wealthy.  He  is  content  to  draw 
a  salary  as  professor  in  the  Higher  Normal 
School.  There  is  no  sordid  motive  in  his 
private  enterprise,  and  no  school  could  be 
more  public.  "  Whosoever  will,  may  come," 
without  entrance  or  tuition  fee.  Money  is 
an  unknown  element  in  his  school,  and  its 
platform  is  truly  democratic.  The  true 
sporting  spirit  for  fair  play  and  equal  rights 
prevails.  Nobleman,  rikman,  and  coolie  are 
on  an  equality,  and  skill  in  throwing  is  the 
only  badge  of  merit.  Five  thousand  pupils 

211 


A  Woman  Alone 

have  tried  their  strength  on  this  wrestling 
field,  and  they  number  in  their  lists  a  sec- 
retary to  the  British  legation.  Small  boys 
and  mature  men  are  proud  to  practise  here. 
All  wear  the  same  costume,  of  heavy  white, 
with  loose,  open  jacket  and  very  short  trunks. 
Men  of  noble  families  wear  a  purple  sash, 
while  the  sash  of  the  ordinary  citizen  is 
white,  and  this  is  the  only  mark  to  distin- 
guish plebeian  from  patrician,  to  tell  the 
humblest  combatant  when  he  has  displaced 
a  man  of  noble  rank.  The  son  of  the  editor 
of  Japan's  best  paper  sat  by  the  wall  with 
the  humblest  natives,  and  was  tossed  and 
thrown  by  an  obscure  coolie  who  outdid  him 
in  skill. 

The  manager  declared  strongly  for  the 
principles  which  guide  the  wrestler's  code, 
and  for  the  value  of  wrestling  in  mental  and 
moral  gain.  The  code  of  ethics  is  exacting, 
and  many  a  thoroughly  bad  boy  shows  a 
moral  reform  after  a  month  at  the  Judo 
school.  No  court  code  is  more  precise  than 
the  ceremony  with  which  these  adversaries 
approach  each  other.  The  ballroom  manners 
of  Alphonse  to  Dulcina,  as  he  asks  her  for 
a  dance,  are  no  more  perfect  than  those  of 
the  opponents  in  this  arena.  The  suppliant 

212 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

crawls  on  hands  and  knees,  salaams  to  the 
floor,  and  repeats  his  fixed  form  of  invita- 
tion. The  recipient  also  plays  the  role  of 
quadruped,  bumps  his  head  on  the  floor,  and 
repeats  the  ceremonious  acceptance.  Then 
they  stand  erect,  come  to  the  centre,  and  war 
begins.  At  the  finish  follow  bows  and  re- 
sponses, expressions  of  mutual  gratitude  and 
appreciation;  and  congratulations,  compli- 
ments, and  recognition  of  special  merit  are 
in  order. 

The  men  mark  their  record  in  the  school 
register,  in  strange  cabalistic  signs  dashed 
on  by  a  brush  from  a  block  of  India  ink. 
The  writing  is  in  columns,  beginning  at  the 
end,  we  should  say,  on  the  last  page  of  the 
book,  and  on  the  right  margin.  Here  is 
future  proof  of  each  man's  bout,  with  whom 
he  struggled,  and  with  what  result.  The 
test  is  no  child's  play,  but  deadly  earnest 
from  start  to  finish.  Muscles  strain,  cords 
swell,  eyes  dilate,  as  each  man  pushes  for 
the  mastery.  Every  movement  is  thought 
out  for  its  scientific  value.  The  fray  is 
marked  by  nimbleness  and  dexterity.  Every 
sweep  of  the  body  is  made  with  lightning 
flash,  and  the  thought  which  precedes  is 
quicker  than  lightning.  It  is  a  training  of 

213 


the  mental  powers  and  a  swift  study  of  cause 
and  effect.  The  work  is  based  on  physical 
laws.  Statics,  inertia,  the  law  of  bodies  at 
rest,  of  bodies  in  motion,  of  momentum,  of 
velocity,  of  the  lever,  the  fulcrum,  of  poise, 
and  the  maintenance  of  gravity,  are  the  foun- 
dation of  the  art.  Fair  play  and  a  scientific 
basis  are  the  code. 

In  his  limited  English  the  gracious  mana- 
ger explained  the  system,  and  I  drank  the 
detested  tea,  an  ubiquitous  penance,  if  one 
is  not  fond  of  the  beverage.  Tomita  Tsune- 
jira  explained  the  word  "  judo,"  which  is 
the  key-note  to  the  profession,  and  which, 
as  he  sadly  announced,  has  no  equivalent  in 
English.  "  Ju "  means  soft,  pliant,  yield- 
ing, and  "  do  "  means  thoroughness.  Freely 
translated,  a  thorough  doing-up  of  the  oppo- 
nent, in  a  soft  and  easy  style.  The  practical 
object-lesson  did  not  reveal  the  softness  of 
the  process.  Men  spun  through  the  air,  and 
fell,  slap-slam,  on  all  sides.  The  soft,  yield- 
ing matting  seemed  the  only  pliant  feature* 
After  the  toss-up  and  the  thump,  men  lay 
for  a  moment  stretched  in  Delsartean  relax- 
ation. Then  they  rebounded  with  the  spring 
of  t  rubber  ball,  and  jumped  to  the  foe,  like 
wiry  little  spiders.  If  a  shoulder  were  dis- 

214 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

located,  a  spasm  of  pain  delayed  the  game 
till  the  bone  was  shoved  back  in  the  socket. 

Scientific  Wrestling 

"  I  will  now  show  scientific  moves,"  said 
Mr.  Tsunejira,  as  he  cleared  the  floor,  and 
called  for  his  two  crack  teachers.  The 
pupils  had  been  ready  for  practice.  They 
had  held  many  bouts  and  brief  rests,  but  they 
readily  retired  to  give  place  to  the  experts. 
Students  knew  that  rare  sport  was  in  store, 
and  they  were  anxious  for  the  exhibition. 
With  a  modest  laugh  and  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure, the  men  advanced  for  my  benefit.  One 
was  short  and  thick-set,  the  other  slight  in 
figure.  They  slid  along,  1-2-3,  as  if  prac- 
tising a  waltz.  Then  they  twisted  their 
knees,  and  tied  up  their  bodies  in  a  double 
knot.  They  rested,  they  pushed,  and  a  man 
was  thrown.  The  beginning  and  the  end 
were  apparent,  but  only  a  trained  eye  could 
detect  the  scientific  move.  Some  sudden 
twist,  unexpected,  at  the  right  second  of 
poise,  had  sent  the  victim  sprawling.  A 
few  moments  were  filled  with  dexterous 
moves,  electric  tosses,  and  quick  tumbles. 
Over  the  head,  on  to  the  shoulder,  right,  left, 

215 


A  Woman  Alone 

across  the  thigh,  a  man  was  tossed  like  a 
featherweight  in  mid-air.  The  admiring 
school  crouched  in  envious  wonder.  The 
proud  manager  scanned  the  play,  intent, 
with  knotted  brow  and  wide-open  eyes,  dis- 
approval and  pleasure  evident,  at  the  vari- 
ous moves.  He  would  have  made  a  noble 
daimio  in  older  times,  this  mixture  of  courtly 
grace  and  stern  rigidity.  The  performers 
did  their  best  stunts,  and  gave  general  pleas- 
ure; the  manager  called  a  halt,  and  the 
teachers  retired  with  profuse  expressions  of 
courtesy  and  compliment.  The  white  and 
purple  sashes  of  the  pupils  mingled  on  the 
floor,  as  the  men  renewed  their  bouts  with 
fresh  impulse  and  inspiration  for  the  art. 

Daily,  from  three  to  five  P.  M.,  and  Sun- 
day morning,  from  nine  to  eleven,  the  school 
is  in  session,  for  that  work  which  makes  men 
ready  to  see,  able  to  do,  willing  to  dare, 
courageous  in  attack,  modest  in  victory,  brave 
in  defeat,  polite  and  manly  always.  The 
principle  and  the  practice  of  the  school  are 
the  making  of  the  soldier,  and  the  humblest 
men  in  training  here  become  record-breakers 
of  bravery  and  endurance  at  the  front. 

Here  the  aspiring  lads  of  Tokio  may  take 
few  lessons  or  many,  as  they  choose,  and 

216 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

here  they  have  the  practice  which  is  one 
essential  in  the  equipment  of  every  police- 
man, that  he  may  hand  over  a  scientific 
touch-down  to  every  tough  who  needs  it. 

In  the  outside  court  men  were  drawing 
water  from  the  deep  well  to  fill  the  buckets 
for  the  after-bath,  which  is  the  pleasure  and 
the  need  of  these  cleanly  people  in  every 
walk  of  life. 

For  his  great  and  practical  philanthropy, 
Professor  Kano  has  earned  the  world-wide 
fame  and  the  national  love  which  he  has 
won.  His  is  patriotic  mission  work  of  the 
highest  type,  without  money  and  without 
price,  a  free  gift  to  the  humblest  and  the 
highest,  for  the  betterment  of  mankind,  for 
the  making  of  manly  men,  who,  in  time  of 
peace  or  in  time  of  war,  are  the  strength  and 
bulwark  of  the  nation. 


217 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  RUSSIAN  MISSION  AND  THE  RED  CROSS 
HOSPITAL 

Bishop  Nicolai 

FROM  the  plain  of  Tokio,  which  stretches 
in  a  labyrinth  of  wide  streets  and  narrow 
alleys,  with  a  network  of  shanties  and  little 
shops,  one  sees,  high  on  the  dominating  hill, 
a  group  of  white  buildings  with  a  dark 
cupola,  a  slender  spire,  and  golden  cross. 

Thus,  overlooking  the  great  capital  in  the 
plain  below,  is  the  Russian  mission,  with  its 
large  cathedral.  "  Be  shure  yer  say  it,  fur 
it  well  repays  the  climb,"  said  the  old  Irish- 
Australian  lady,  who  was  my  respected  men- 
tor and  advisory  board.  Following  her  ad- 
vice, I  climbed  the  high  hill  with  a  snorting 
rikman,  well-winded  before  he  reached  the 
top. 

With  memories  of  the  Greek-Russian 
218 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

church  in  Sitka,  whose  vestments  and  altar- 
cloths  were  woven  by  devoted  nuns  in  Rus- 
sia, I  wondered  what  this  station  in  Japan 
might  hold,  and,  crossing  the  pebbled  court, 
I  sought  the  bishop's  house.  A  Japanese 
lad  ran  down  the  corridor,  and  bade  me 
enter  where  a  perpendicular  card,  in  wood, 
bearing  cabalistic  signs,  probably  read  the 
occupant's  name.  If  it  read  "  No  admit- 
tance," I  was  none  the  wiser.  The  apart- 
ment united  bedroom  and  reception-room, 
and,  to  my  hesitating  knock,  there  came  a 
hearty  greeting  in  an  unknown  tongue,  which 
encouraged  me  as  if  it  said,  "  Come  ahead," 
and  I  passed  to  the  inner  room,  where  two 
queer  men  sat  in  close  conference.  They 
were,  apparently,  host  and  guest.  The  latter 
was  enjoying  sweet  biscuits  and  a  savoury 
drink,  as  the  former,  Bishop  Nicolai,  ad- 
vanced with  a  warm  greeting  for  the 
stranger.  This  was  the  dear  father  who  for 
so  many  years  had  devoted  his  life  to  his 
chosen  people.  No  extra  time  and  no  intro- 
duction were  needed  to  be  on  friendly  terms 
with  the  kind  old  man.  He  was  very  tall, 
with  long  hair  and  beard,  and  his  beautiful 
cloth  gown  reached  to  his  heels.  From  his 
long  chain  of  very  small  silver  beads,  which 

219 


A  Woman  Alone 

passed  around  his  neck,  hung  his  big  silver 
watch.  When  I  asked  how  long  he  had  lived 
in  Japan,  "  Long  before  you  were  born,  my 
dear  child,"  he  replied,  and  we  fell  to  guess- 
ing ages.  He  gallantly  guessed  mine  as 
much  less  than  it  was,  and  this  I  heartily 
appreciated.  The  father  was  not  so  com- 
pletely out  of  the  world  that  he  had  for- 
gotten to  cater  to  woman's  weakness. 

"  I  have  only  two  more  years  to  live," 
he  said.  "  You  know  David  said  we  could 
live  till  seventy,  and  I  am  sixty-eight." 

"  But  we  do  not  consult  David  in  that 
matter.  He  was  not  speaking  for  the  mod- 
ern world.  Hosts  of  people  have  passed  his 
limit,  and  you  are  just  ready  for  your  best 
work,"  I  answered. 

In  recent  years,  the  bishop  has  had  gen- 
eral oversight  of  the  entire  mission,  but  has 
given  his  personal  attention  to  the  transla- 
tion of  the  Gospel  from  Russian  into  Japa- 
nese. Forty-three  years  he  had  worked 
among  these  people,  returning  only  twice  to 
his  own  country.  He  seemed  a  man  fired 
with  nervous  energy,  and  ready  in  many 
tongues.  His  den  was  full  of  pictures,  and, 
as  I  spoke  of  a  copy  of  the  Sistine  Madonna, 
he  called  my  attention  to  a  series  of  softly 

220 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

coloured  Raphaels,  which  recalled  the  gal- 
leries of  the  Pitti  Palace. 

Very  freely  he  discussed  the  Greek 
Church,  and  its  points  of  contrast  with  the 
Roman.  "  We  have  no  Pope.  We  are  ruled 
by  the  council  and  the  synods.  We  have 
confessional  and  seven  distinct  sacraments. 
We  can  marry,  and  have  the  cares  and  pleas- 
ures of  home.  No,  the  Czar  is  not  our  head, 
in  any  sense.  That  is  a  false  notion  which 
has  gone  out,  among  many  wrong  ideas  about 
Russia.  The  Czar  would  be  subject  to  me, 
or  to  any  bishop,  in  church  affairs.  We  do 
not  have  statues,  because  they  are  coarse 
and  clumsy,  in  a  church  where  decorations 
should  be  simple.  Hence  we  have  pictures 
only." 

The  Cathedral 

Clap,  clap,  came  the  small  boy  with  the 
big  key,  which  would  admit  me  to  the  empty 
sanctum,  built  in  circular  form,  with  a  strip 
of  carpet  running  up  the  centre.  The  Greek 
church  has  no  aisles  and  no  divisions.  The 
congregation  usually  stands,  but  the  Japa- 
nese are  allowed  their  national  habit  of 
kneeling.  The  Greek  service  uses  no  mu- 

221 


A  Woman  Alone 

sical  instruments,  but  young  voices  are  trained 
in  a  goodly  choir,  and  the  vesper  music  of 
the  mission  on  the  hill  is  one  of  the  delights 
of  the  city,  and  the  children  grouped  before 
the  altar  rejoice  to  sing  their  evening  hymns. 

The  cathedral,  which  has  been  built  about 
fourteen  years,  is  the  crowning  work  of  the 
bishop's  devoted  life,  and  every  evening,  at 
six,  beneath  the  great  candelabra,  he  reads 
the  service  to  his  people.  From  nine  to 
eleven  the  Sunday  service  is  held.  The  audi- 
torium will  accommodate  fifteen  hundred, 
though  only  at  Easter  is  it  crowded. 

The  high  altar,  which  cost  eleven  thou- 
sand yen,  is  an  elaborate  contrast  to  the  stern 
simplicity  of  the  interior.  Towering,  with 
its  gilded  cross,  fifty  feet  high,  and  extend- 
ing forty  feet  in  width,  it  is  an  extravagant 
mass  of  gilding,  inlaid  with  beautiful  paint- 
ings. 

The  altar  is  a  veritable  gallery  of  Bible 
literature.  The  bishop  has  realized  the  value 
of  object-lessons  for  impressing  the  young 
mind,  and  he  placed  the  Bible  stories  in  the 
most  attractive  form.  "  Here  the  children 
see  the  Bible  in  painting.  It  is  good  for 
the  eyes  to  dwell  upon,"  he  said,  and  the 
most  famous  artists  of  St.  Petersburg  were 

322 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

engaged  to  decorate  the  obscure  temple  on 
the  distant  hill.  The  Annunciation  is  por- 
trayed. The  Madonna  holds  the  infant 
Jesus,  with  His  hand  on  the  globe,  in  token 
of  a  conquered  world.  The  Crucifixion,  the 
Resurrection,  the  Last  Judgment,  are  pic- 
tured. Stephen  and  his  brother  martyrs  read 
the  lesson  of  fidelity.  The  Apostles  are  sug- 
gestively portrayed,  and  the  Evangelists 
stand  out  in  a  dignity  which  would  rival 
the  great  figures  of  Diirer. 

The  Japanese  are  devotees  of  art,  and  are 
readily  impressed  by  the  magic  touch  of  the 
brush.  Here  they  find  much  to  study,  and 
they  adore  this  artistic  revelation  of  sacred 
history.  Their  impressionable  natures  re- 
ceive the  old  story,  and  the  appeal  is  most 
vivid,  through  the  sense  of  sight.  Such  is 
the  good  bishop's  belief,  and,  surely,  he  has 
a  right  to  know.  In  the  practical  work  of 
his  school  and  hospital,  he  has  been  a  power 
for  good,  and  dearly  has  the  Russian  priest 
been  loved  for  many  years  throughout  his 
parish.  So  closely  is  he  identified  with  the 
life  of  the  neighbourhood,  that  the  entire 
district  is  called  after  him,  the  Nicorai. 

Another  ornament  is  the  treasure  of  the 
cathedral.  Near  the  altar,  protected  by  a 

223 


A  Woman  Alone 

glass  case,  reposes  the  dead  Christ,  painted 
in  relief,  and  clad  in  marvellous  grave- 
clothes.  The  cloth  of  gold  is  run  with 
strings  of  pearls.  On  the  base  of  gold 
embroidery  are  worked  the  words,  "  He  gave 
Himself  in  death,  that  all  the  world  might 
live."  The  Russian  nuns  had  generous  love, 
and  to  spare,  when  they  wrought  with  tire- 
less fingers,  and  with  infinite  skill,  the  glori- 
ous Christ-robe  for  the  mission  across  the 
seas. 

Bishop  Nicolai  talked  most  lovingly  of  his 
flock.  He  had  a  warm  word  for  the  Ameri- 
can missionaries,  who,  he  said,  "  were  all 
good  people."  The  secretary  of  the  Russian 
legation  to  Korea  was  of  our  group,  and 
much  was  said  of  that  quaint  land.  He,  too, 
spoke  good  English,  as  all  high-bred  Rus- 
sians are  linguists,  and  we  spoke  of  the  poli- 
tics and  the  poverty  of  Korea,  which  had 
abandoned  the  emperor's  celebration  for  lack 
of  money,  and  lack  of  credit,  with  which  to 
borrow  cash  for  large  processions.  The 
bishop  was  no  cloistered  monk,  with  eyes 
only  for  his  book  and  his  breviary,  but  a 
modern  man  of  affairs,  well  versed  in  the 
serious  questions  of  the  day.  He  stopped 
in  the  discussion  of  modern  history  to  give 

224 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

me  a  kindly  farewell  and  the  hearty  invita- 
tion, "  Come  often  to  our  service.  We  want 
to  know  you  well." 

The  Red  Cross  in  Japan 

Ever  since  those  remote  days  when  "  A 
gentle  knight  was  pricking  o'er  the  plain," 
the  Red  Cross  has  been  the  symbol  of  kindly 
deeds  and  gentle  courtesy,  and  the  countries 
are  hard  to  find  on  the  round  globe  to-day 
where  the  Red  Cross  is  not  known  by  its 
work.  Wherever  its  proud  banner  waves, 
there  the  philanthropist  and  humanitarian 
are  found.  The  empress  is  its  warm  patron 
in  Japan,  where  the  society  has  been  estab- 
lished twenty-eight  years,  and,  on  the  anni- 
versary which  marked  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury, one  hundred  and  ten  thousand  people 
crowded  into  Ueno  Park  to  hear  the  words 
of  her  Highness,  as  she  awarded  medals  to 
the  faithful.  It  was  a  great  gathering  of 
enthusiasts,  and  offered  an  excuse  to  the  fete- 
loving  people  for  a  national  picnic.  The 
entrance  was  arched  in  evergreen,  bearing 
the  red  symbol,  and  the  park,  at  night,  gave 
every  proof  of  a  big  gala  day.  What  the 
valiant  Red  Cross  has  been  to  the  sick  and 

225 


A  Woman  Alone 

dying,  among  the  brave  soldiers  of  the  war, 
has  now  become  matter  of  history. 

The  Red  Cross  Hospital 

A  very  long  and  rambling  ride  from  the 
centre  of  the  limitless  city  brings  one  to  the 
wide  grounds,  whose  large  buildings  were 
erected  twenty  years  ago.  Pest-houses,  de- 
voted to  infection,  are  a  little  removed  from 
the  main  buildings,  which  are  conspicuous 
by  the  emblem  of  the  order.  The  usher 
made  obsequious  recognition  of  my  visitor's 
pass,  and  conducted  me  to  a  sad  reception- 
room.  A  doctor  appeared,  immaculate  in 
white  duck,  which  contrasted  with  his 
swarthy  skin,  and  we  conversed  in  German, 
as  we  had  no  English-Japanese  base.  Our 
efforts  were  pitifully  weak,  but  I  tried  to 
resurrect  a  few  phrases,  which  might  match 
the  atrocious  wreckage  of  the  little  man,  who 
thought  he  spoke  as  to  the  manor  born  the 
language  of  the  Fatherland.  We  waxed  elo- 
quent over  the  tea-cups,  which  seemed  the 
first  step  to  support  me  in  my  general  survey. 

We  made  a  solemn  tour  of  all  the  show- 
rooms, the  directors'  chamber,  and  the  em- 
press's salon,  with  her  full-length  picture, 

226 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

where  she  may  admire  her  gracious  self  on 
those  glad  days  when  she  is  received  at  the 
hospital.  But  I  had  not  come  for  show- 
rooms, and  only  when  I  caught  a  stiff  lab- 
oratory smell  of  alcohol  did  I  feel  sure  that 
we  were  approaching  anything  like  hospital 
wards.  The  laboratory  was  a  storehouse 
for  pans,  jars,  cases  of  organs  internal 
and  external,  malformed,  putrid,  semi-gone, 
retained  for  examination  and  study.  Speci- 
mens there  were,  enough  to  satisfy  any  lover 
of  the  monstrous,  in  this  ghastly  chamber 
of  horrors.  Every  ailment  in  the  catalogue 
of  miseries  has  its  sample. 

The  quiet  corridors  were  restful,  and  the 
little  nurses  flitting  about  like  gentle  doves, 
in  white  uniforms  and  high  French  caps, 
with  the  red  cross,  were  a  happy  relief  to 
the  gruesome  den.  The  hospital  staff,  of 
three  hundred  women,  had  passed  a  train- 
ing of  three  years.  They  live  and  mess  in 
annexes  of  the  hospital.  They  earn  the  small 
sum  of  eight  yen  a  month  for  their  services, 
and  must  pay  five  for  board,  so  that  their 
actual  income  is  three  yen,  or  one  dollar 
and  fifty  cents  per  month.  Not  a  vast  sum 
for  the  long  hours,  hard  work,  and  unpleas- 
ant details  of  their  profession.  A  real  mis- 

227 


A  Woman  Alone 

sionary  at  a  minimum  salary  is  this  gentle 
Nippon  nurse. 

The  hospital  is  conducted  by  a  company, 
which  holds  itself  responsible  for  the  sup- 
port. Twenty  doctors  are  always  in  service. 

The  Graded  Wards 

The  cost  to  the  patient  is  graded  in  five 
classes,  according  to  his  means.  A  first- 
grade  patient  pays  yen  5.50  per  day  to  be 
alone  in  two  comfortable  rooms,  with  mat- 
tings and  soft  bedding.  The  so-called  read- 
ing-room is  the  reception-room  of  visitors, 
who  call  under  the  doctor's  supervision.  In 
the  second  class,  two  patients  share  one  neat 
bedroom,  each  paying  three  yen  a  day.  In 
the  fourth  class  are  six  patients,  at  yen  1.50 
each.  The  fifth  class  includes  long  wards 
of  those  who  pay  the  nominal  sum  of  one- 
half  yen,  or  twenty-five  cents  of  our  money, 
to  retain  their  self-respect,  and  do  away  with 
the  sense  of  absolute  pauperism.  These  sums 
include  all  necessities  of  food,  service,  and 
treatment.  Foreign  beds  are  used  in  the 
form  of  crude  cots.  The  native  beds  of 
piled-up  quilts  are  entirely  discarded.  There 
is  still  another  grade,  unnamed  in  the  reg- 

228 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ular  classes,  of  actual  charity  patients,  or 
frei-costen,  who  pay  nothing.  The  chief 
distinction  apparent  in  these  two  classes  was 
in  the  bedding,  as  the  blankets  of  the  free 
patients  were  rough  and  coarse  and  gray, 
while  the  fifth  class  had  white  blankets. 
Both  of  these  wrards,  of  long,  gloomy  sheds, 
were  very  plainly  outfitted.  Such  of  the 
frei-costen  as  can  leave  their  beds  eat  at 
a  general  mess  table,  and  they  know  that 
after  death  their  bodies  belong  to  the  hos- 
pital. 

In  very  lame  German,  the  little  doctor 
asked  if  I  would  like  to  attend  the  autopsy 
then  in  progress,  in  the  building  reserved  for 
dissection,  on  a  poor  man  who  had  suc- 
cumbed to  heart  disease  the  day  before. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  realized  how  thoroughly 
I  wished  to  visit,  and  he  seemed  a  little  sur- 
prised at  my  ready  assent,  but  resigned  him- 
self to  the  inevitable.  Six  earnest  men  and 
one  attentive  little  nurse,  all  robed  in  white, 
bent  over  their  subject,  while  another  doctor 
took  notes.  They  removed  the  internal  or- 
gans, and  a  final  cut  took  off  the  breast-bone. 
Everything  was  scrupulously  clean,  but  the 
ghastliness  of  the  work  did  not  inspire  me 
to  follow  the  medical  calling.  The  guide 

229 


A    Woman  Alone 

invited  me  to  wash  my  hands,  as  we  passed 
out,  but  gloves  rendered  such  ablutions  need- 
less, unless  he  would  drop  me  into  the  vat, 
and  cleanse  me  in  toto. 

Even  in  the  most  cheerless  rooms  there 
was  an  attempt  to  lighten  suffering.  Pallid 
children  played  with  dolls  and  toys,  and 
adults  sewed  and  crocheted,  or  read  the 
zigzag  characters,  which  seem  mysterious 
enough  to  make  a  well  man  sick.  Long 
corridors  gave  off  to  the  sunlight,  and 
formed  a  fine  solarium  for  the  convalescents. 

Prevalence  of  Consumption  and  Kakke 

Insurance  men,  who  can  be  trusted  for  the 
health  statistics  of  the  land,  say  that  con- 
sumption claims  fifty  per  cent,  of  all  the 
deaths.  It  is  the  prevailing  malady  of  Japan, 
and  certainly  the  ratio  of  one-half  on  the 
death-roll,  for  a  single  malady,  is  enormous. 
The  prime  causes  may  lie  in  thin  clothing 
and  little  fire,  during  much  damp  weather, 
poor  food  and  hard  work,  which  in  time 
must  deplete  the  system  which  is  little  en- 
riched and  rebuilt  by  juicy  roast  beef.  If 
there  be  no  power  of  resistance,  colds  and 
coughs,  engendered  by  damp  climate,  settle 

230 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

hard  in  the  system,  and  hollow  chests,  sunken 
faces,  and  hacking  coughs  are  plentiful  in 
the  hospital.  Often  the  humble  rikman,  who 
braves  all  weathers  in  all  seasons,  wheezes 
and  hacks  with  a  persistency  that  suggests 
the  grim  reaper.  He  is  very  soon  winded, 
and  he  puffs  and  snorts  as  if  blowing  a  blast 
for  resurrection  morn. 

Kakke,  a  term  which  has  no  equivalent  in 
English,  is  another  grim  disease,  due  to 
damp  climate,  which  claims  many  a  victim 
in  Japan.  It  attacks  the  arms  and  legs, 
rendering  the  invalid  as  helpless  as  if  para- 
lyzed, while  the  flesh  is  soft  and  flabby,  pain- 
ful to  the  touch,  and  apparently  bloodless. 
The  doctor  regarded  this  malady  as  a  pecul- 
iarly national  trait,  and  a  most  interesting 
study.  As  a  polite  attention  to  myself,  he 
turned  back  the  bedclothes  and  pinched  a 
sick  man's  flesh,  to  prove  its  weak  condition. 
The  invalid,  with  the  beseeching  look  of  a 
wounded  animal,  cringed  beneath  the  touch, 
and,  with  a  shock  and  a  sense  of  pity,  I 
begged  the  doctor  to  drop  the  painful  illus- 
tration. It  could  do  no  good,  and  it  added 
one  more  ache  in  this  suffering  world. 

The  poor  receive  help  in  the  Red  Cross 
dispensary.  One  doubly  fated  little  girl, 

231 


A   Woman  Alone 

with  eyes  and  ears  afflicted,  came  under  the 
skill  of  the  aurist,  and  again  under  the  care 
of  the  oculist.  The  blindness,  so  pitifully 
prevalent  in  the  empire,  is  often  caused  in 
babyhood,  when  the  child's  head  is  allowed 
to  swing  in  the  dazzling  sun,  as  the  infant 
dangles  on  the  mother's  back.  The  strongest 
nerves  might  be  "  put  out  of  joint "  by  the 
glare  which  baby  endures. 

In  the  doctor's  kindly  zeal  to  show  every 
ward  and  each  long  corridor,  it  seemed  to  my 
tired  feet  that  we  had  traversed  miles  of  ter- 
ritory. Many  harrowing  scenes  had  been  sad 
and  depressing,  a  strain  on  the  nerves,  which 
added  to  the  general  fatigue,  and  a  cup  of 
Turkish  coffee  at  the  close  of  the  trip  was 
a  welcome  tonic.  It  had  a  queer  flavour, 
which  smacked  of  the  laboratory,  and  an 
unnatural  sweetness,  and  I  wondered  if  the 
doctor  was  preparing  me  for  the  clinic.  But 
he  was  void  of  evil  intent,  and  I  left  the 
Red  Cross  with  added  proof  of  kind  hos- 
pitality and  native  politeness.  Though  he 
often  pronounced  my  German  "  zehr  gut," 
the  petty  fib  could  be  forgiven  on  the  ground 
that  standards  vary,  and  he  was  quite  in- 
capable of  judging.  I  smiled  to  think  that 
we  had  nothing  to  boast  of  on  either  side. 

232 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

A  Tribute  to  the  Red  Cross 

What  the  Red  Cross  hospital  has  done  for 
the  people  of  Japan  in  time  of  peace  was 
but  an  earnest  of  its  power  upon  the  battle- 
field in  days  of  dire  disaster.  Its  spirit  and 
its  strength  have  been  terribly  tested,  and 
gloriously  proved  in  the  late  war.  A  visit 
to  the  central  home  in  Tokio,  or  the  record 
of  its  work  in  time  of  sorest  need,  leaves 
supreme  the  thought  of  love  and  reverence 
for  its  work,  honour  and  respect  for  its 
deep-seated  purpose,  wherever  it  lifts  its  flag 
and  plants  its  relief  corps  throughout  this 
needy  world.  As  it  helps  the  poor,  comforts 
the  sick,  and  soothes  the  dying,  glory,  hon- 
our, power  be  to  its  name,  since  the  good 
which  it  would  is  the  essence  of  God  Him- 
self. 


233 


A  Woman  Alone 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  GREAT  JAPANESE  INDUSTRIES  AND  THE 
STOCK  MARKET 

The  Tea  Industry 

THE  wanderer  to  Japan,  who  does  not 
care  for  rice  and  tea,  will  often  find  himself 
lacking  occupation  when  the  time  comes  to 
eat  and  drink.  As  rice  is  the  staple  food, 
so  is  tea  the  polite  form.  In  store,  temple, 
and  theatre,  in  private  home  and  public  tea- 
house, at  solemn  rites  and  merry  functions, 
tea  is  always  offered,  the  emblem  of  good 
cheer,  the  symbol  of  hospitality.  One  is  ex- 
pected to  empty  the  tiny  cup,  and  a  refusal 
to  drink  would  often  mean  insult. 

One  of  the  famed  sights  of  the  land,  which 
draws  the  tourists  as  honey  draws  bees,  is 
the  broad  fields  of  Uji,  near  Kioto,  where 
acres  of  short  shrubs  rear  their  thick  tops 
of  dark  and  shiny  leaves.  The  picturesque 

234 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

peasants,  with  kerchiefs  on  their  heads,  and 
with  their  dark,  patient  faces  seamed  by 
much  contact  with  the  sun,  pick  the  leaves 
into  large  panniers  which  are  carried  on  the 
head  and  on  the  back. 

Kahei  Otani 

The  tea-culture  is  not  simply  for  Japan, 
but  the  far  countries  import  great  quantities 
of  the  product.  Kahei  Otani,  a  busy  man  in 
matters  municipal  and  political,  and  a  prom- 
inent member  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
is  the  international  link  in  the  tea  trade. 
He  is  an  important  business  factor  in  the 
seaport  of  Yokohama,  who  buys  the  herb 
from  the  growers,  fires  it,  and  then  exports 
it  to  distant  nations.  He  is  a  patriarch 
among  his  people,  honoured  at  home  and 
respected  abroad. 

His  personality  is  strong.  His  keen  eye 
and  sharp-cut  features  show  unusual  char- 
acter. His  smile  encourages,  his  manner  is 
dignified,  and  one  feels  that  he  is  a  man  of 
business  who  has  no  time  to  waste.  He  has 
carried  foreign  dress  to  that  extent  which 
always  amuses  the  foreigner.  He  is  span- 
gled with  gold  ornaments ;  big  sleeve-buttons 

235 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  size  of  an  eagle,  big  chain  and  multi- 
tudinous pendants,  a  bullet  scarf-pin,  and 
manifold  rings  with  flashing  stones  attest 
his  notion  of  what  the  foreign  swell  should 
be.  Until  recent  years,  the  native  knew  that 
rings  were  a  foe  to  natural  beauty,  but  to-day 
every  dude  is  loaded  down  like  a  slave-girl. 
The  great  merchant's  business  cares  have 
not  lessened  his  activity.  He  is  open  to  good 
joke  or  story,  and  throws  back  his  head  with 
a  jolly  laugh  as  he  strokes  his  long  gray 
beard.  He  has  been  a  wide  traveller  in 
America,  from  coast  to  coast,  and  speaks 
with  interest  of  our  big  cities.  He  knows 
the  value  of  international  relations,  and  de- 
sires the  friendship  of  America,  as  essential 
to  commercial  success  in  both  lands.  Yoko- 
hama's exports  and  imports  have  a  wide 
future,  and  he  realizes  that  a  high  duty  on 
tea,  if  it  forced  Japan  to  find  another  market, 
would  be  a  sad  mistake.  Readily  he  dis- 
cussed the  situation,  in  the  little  office  where 
the  shelves,  tier  upon  tier,  were  ranged  with 
half-pound  cans  of  samples.  The  dwarf 
bowls  on  the  counter  awaited  the  tester, 
whose  delicate  duty  it  is  to  sample  and  clas- 
sify every  specimen  which  goes  out  of  the 
great  establishment.  He  is  an  expert,  with 

236 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

sense  of  taste  so  acute  that  a  mere  touch, 
often  a  sniff,  is  sufficient  to  give  rank  to  the 
tea.  The  taster  has  to  be  very  cautious  in 
his  profession,  as  a  generous  swallow  of  each 
sample  would  soon  make  of  him  a  gastro- 
nomic wreck,  or  a  hopeless  tea-drunkard. 
Such  is  the  latent  power  in  the  herb  that 
professional  tasters  have  often  shortened 
their  lives  by  carelessness.  Mr.  Otani  speaks 
a  little  English,  slowly.  He  understands  still 
less,  and  does  not  pretend  to  follow  fluent 
speech.  His  dapper  little  interpreter  is 
always  at  hand,  listening  with  patient  meek- 
ness. He  holds  his  hands  behind  him,  and 
rises  on  tiptoe  to  the  situation,  when  he 
would  pour  out  his  own  harangue.  Both 
gentlemen  have  a  series  of  funny  fits  if  a 
joke  is  uttered,  and  the  joker  feels  proud 
and  thankful  that  he  is  alive  to  give  such  joy. 

In  referring  to  his  active  life,  the  mer- 
chant said :  "I  am  up  every  day  at  five 
o'clock.  I  always  get  up  at  sunrise." 

"  And  do  you  go  to  bed  at  sunset? "  I 
asked. 

"  No,  I  go  to  bed  when  the  moon  comes." 

"  Sentimental  people  think  that  is  just  the 
time  to  be  up.  If  you  follow  the  way  of 
the  moon,  you  retire  an  hour  later  every 

237 


A  JVoman  Alone 

night,  and  when  the  moon  does  not  rise  at 
all,  you  must  sit  up  all  night  and  wait  for 
it."  This  view  of  his  nocturnal  habit  sent 
the  old  gentleman  into  spasms  of  mirth  so 
violent  that  I  regretted  a  witticism  which 
might  lead  to  his  death. 

Tea-firing 

Mr.  Otani  is  not  a  planter.  He  is  simply 
a  merchant  who  buys  the  leaf  from  all  cor- 
ners of  the  island,  and  fires,  packs,  and  ex- 
ports it  to  all  parts  of  the  world.  The  sea- 
son yields  three  crops,  and  the  best  comes  in 
about  May  loth.  Throughout  the  land  the 
bushes,  decked  in  their  glossy  green  robes, 
are  roofed  with  bamboo  to  protect  them 
from  bad  weather,  and  the  little  natives, 
chiefly  women,  are  busily  picking  the  har- 
vest. 

From  May  till  October  fires  burn  and 
wheels  turn  in  the  factory,  when  everything 
stops  for  another  season.  The  working  day, 
of  twelve  hours,  runs  from  five  A.  M.  till 
six  P.  M.,  with  an  hour's  rest  at  noon.  Mr. 
Otani  employs  a  hundred  workers,  men  and 
women,  but  there  is  no  child  labour.  The 
children  of  workers,  with  babies  strapped 

238 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

on  their  backs,  were  toddling  about,  and 
nursing  mothers  often  stopped  their  work 
to  feed  the  little  ones.  A  woman  receives 
thirty  or  forty  sen  a  day,  i.  e.  fifteen  or  twenty 
cents  of  our  money,  for  twelve  hours  of  life, 
and  the  men  receive  from  forty  to  sixty  sen, 
or  not  more  than  thirty  cents.  Strange,  isn't 
it,  how  we  spoil  the  foreign  servant?  That, 
within  a  few  weeks  after  he  lands,  we  must 
pay  a  Japanese  a  dollar  and  a  half  per  day, 
or  forty  dollars  a  month. 

Banked  more  solid  than  wood  in  a  shed, 
anH  strong  enough  to  stand  alone,  the  tea 
is  massed  in  the  storehouse,  whence  it  is 
shovelled  into  tubes  and  blown  up-stairs, 
where  it  runs  through  the  tunnels  to  the 
hoppers,  and  is  dropped  to  the  big  iron  pans 
below.  Each  pan  contains  seventy-five 
pounds,  which  are  swiftly  churned  by  a 
revolving  piston  in  the  centre.  The  long 
row  of  brick  ovens  is  below,  with  fires  that 
are  faithfully  fed.  Intense  heat,  with  a  gen- 
eral shake-up,  for  forty  minutes,  constitutes 
what  is  known  as  pan-firing.  Sun-firing  is 
a  very  similar  process  under  a  different 
name.  In  basket-firing,  the  leaves  are  put 
in  very  coarse  baskets,  over  small  pans  of 
charcoal  embers,  and  the  heat  is  retained 

239 


A  Woman  Alone 

under  cover.  Basket-fired  tea  is  very  pop- 
ular with  buyers,  and  the  process  takes  about 
fifteen  minutes.  Mountains  of  charcoal,  to 
feed  the  furnaces,  stand  in  the  yard.  A  very 
fine  tea  dust  flies  through  the  house,  and 
little  sweepers  are  busy  all  the  time  brush- 
ing up  the  powder  from  the  spotless  floors. 
The  strong  odour  gives  the  idea  of  walking 
about  in  a  big  tea-caddy.  Sorters  and  sift- 
ers pass  the  leaves  through  sieves  of  vari- 
ous grades,  and  others  grind  them  down  by 
rubbing  heavy  wooden  rollers  across  the  long 
sieve.  A  very  tedious  process  it  seemed  for 
the  quantity  worked.  "  Very  slow  way,  you 
think,  in  America,"  said  the  interpreter,  and 
I  could  not  deny  the  suggestion,  which  many 
a  tactless  American  had  doubtless  uttered. 

In  another  corner  of  the  house  is  the  col- 
ouring process,  —  poisoning,  one  might  say, 
in  view  of  the  ugly  green  urns  of  venomous 
liquid  churned  by  coolie  women.  They 
looked  up  with  a  kindly  smile  from  their 
evil  task,  and  seemed  not  to  realize  the  ex- 
tent of  their  crime  toward  the  race,  as  the 
green  spun  around  like  an  angry  sprite. 

"What  deadly  stuff  do  you  use?  "  I  asked. 

The  man  smiled  with  placid  reserve.  "  It 
is  quite  good,  all  harmless.  People  want 

240 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

green  tea,  must  haf,  must  make.  No  come 
natural.  Put  in  varee,  varee  leetle,"  he  said 
in  justification. 

So  bibulous  folks  get  green,  —  they  know 
not  what,  —  and  comfort  themselves  that 
they  have  the  natural  hue  of  the  plantation, 
while  they  grow  cross  and  nervous  with  the 
artificial  dye.  The  knowing  ones,  who  are 
on  to  the  trick,  stand  back  and  smile  com- 
placently at  the  green  world  which  they  have 
hoodwinked.  The  United  States  and  Can- 
ada take  vast  quantities  of  the  Japanese  tea, 
both  black  and  green.  The  great  merchant, 
with  his  tricks  of  the  trade,  his  secrets,  and 
his  science,  and  his  jugglery  of  the  leaves, 
only  caters  to  the  public  taste,  and  when  that 
taste  is  green,  the  colour  matches.  If  the 
public  cried  out  for  blue  tea,  he  would  use 
bluing. 

He  is  a  typical  Japanese,  in  spite  of  his 
foreign  jewelry.  He  is  a  generous  and  pro- 
gressive patriot,  a  far-sighted,  clear-headed 
financier,  and  he  is  patron  saint  to  the  army 
of  humble  workers  who  come  to  the  great 
tea-firing  house  for  work  during  three 
months  of  the  year.  He  solves  for  them 
life's  terrible  problem,  which,  too  often,  is 
most  distressing  in  the  Orient. 

241 


A  Woman  Alone 
The  Silk  Industry 

From  the  mulberry  leaf  with  its  crawling 
worm,  and  the  white  cocoon  with  its  long- 
drawn  fibres,  to  the  glossy  fabric  on  the 
counter,  the  traveller  may  see  every  phase  of 
the  silk  industry  in  Japan.  Natives  trudge 
the  hillsides,  with  their  baskets  of  leaves, 
and  the  shelves  of  humblest  cottagers  are 
incubators  where  the  creeping  things  nibble 
their  food.  Later,  cocoons  are  heaped  up 
by  the  thousands,  in  the  sun,  by  the  doors, 
and  they  are  dropped  in  the  boiling  caldrons, 
and  the  threads  are  skilfully  drawn  off. 
Country  women  have  hand-looms,  and  the 
carded  floss  is  their  capital.  There  are  no 
huge  factories,  with  whistles  and  wheels  and 
endless  bands,  but  numberless  little  homes 
throughout  the  land  work  out  the  national 
industry. 

The  House  of  Mitsui 

The  name  of  Mitsui  is  great  in  the  land, 
and  is  the  shibboleth  of  commercial  enter- 
prise. Eleven  branches  of  the  family  — 
grown  large  by  intermarriage  and  adoption 
of  sons-in-law  —  control  great  business  mar- 
kets. Their  four  departments  include  silk, 

242 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

mining,  banking,  and  commission  business, 
i.  e.  selling,  from  their  wholesale  houses,  rice, 
cotton,  and  raw  silk.  Their  ships,  loaded 
with  great  cargoes  of  silk,  cotton,  and  beans, 
touch  at  the  ports  of  Tien-Tsin,  Shanghai, 
and  Manila,  as  Mitsui  is  the  great  trader 
for  all  the  East.  The  name  is  a  synonym 
for  Oriental  commerce.  The  family  is 
proud  of  its  industry,  traced  back  a  thousand 
years  to  the  noble  house  of  Fujiwara.  The 
noted  silk  firm  dates  back  250  years,  and 
230  years  ago  it  made  an  innovation  in  busi- 
ness methods  by  marking  the  price  on  goods 
and  selling  any  quantity  desired.  One  may 
guess  what  an  upheaval  this  was  in  the  ways 
of  commerce  for  a  people  who  make  no  talk 
and  do  all  things  quietly  and  with  reserve. 
Previously  all  sales  were  by  the  piece,  and 
trade  was  wholesale,  we  should  say.  These 
changes  gave  the  firm  a  popularity  which  it 
has  always  held,  and  the  house  of  Mitsui 
is  one  of  the  liveliest  centres  in  the  capital 
of  Tokio. 

A  "Bargain  Sale  at  Mitsui's 

The  world  over,  a  bargain  sale  draws  the 
American    woman    like    a    magnet,    and    I 

243 


A  Woman  Alone 

rushed  down  to  Mitsui's  when  the  clearance 
sale  was  on.  Natives  left  their  clogs  at  the 
door,  and  received  wooden  checks  in  return, 
and  the  polite  coolies  sat  me  on  a  stool  and 
shoved  my  offending  members  into  mocca- 
sins, before  I  could  cross  their  threshold. 
Certainly  no  boorish  creature  could  ever 
tread  their  spotless  matting  in  his  boots. 
The  sale  was  like  other  sales,  plus  the  na- 
tional factor.  Customers  stared  at  the  goods 
in  the  cases,  raised  in  relief  and  folded  to 
advantage,  designed  for  obis,  underwear, 
kimonos,  in  quiet  silk,  subdued  cloth,  or 
gaudy  cotton.  All  the  cases  were  locked, 
and  the  heads  of  departments  carried  the 
keys.  Quiet  order  reigned,  and  it  was  ap- 
parent that  the  cases  did  not  belong  to  the 
big  bargain.  To  foreigners,  the  cleanliness 
and  quiet  were  marked  features  of  the  na- 
tive trade. 

The  tide  of  traffic  swarmed  to  the  enclo- 
sure behind  the  rail,  where  remnants  and 
goods  damaged,  spotted,  left  over,  of  every 
sort,  were  stacked  on  oilcloth  mats  on  the 
floor,  and  women  knelt  in  hundreds  to  pick 
and  sort,  to  praise  and  condemn,  to  grab  and 
carry  off,  with  the  same  feminine  zeal  which 
marks  the  bargain  fiend  at  home.  The  dif- 

244 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ference  was  in  the  general  quiet.  There 
were  orderly  disorder  and  quiet  confusion. 
Babies  toddled  under  foot,  in  every  one's 
way,  and  nobody  minded.  In  America  they 
would  have  been  killed  in  the  melee.  No 
Japanese  baby  was  ever  killed  by  public 
rush.  Many  babies  slept  sweetly  on  their 
mothers'  backs,  as  the  matrons  searched 
among  the  remnants,  and  an  occasional 
toss-up  to  the  shoulder  replaced  the  infant 
who  had  begun  to  backslide.  He  opened 
his  eyes  and  stared  at  the  bargains,  without 
pretending  any  interest,  and  then  fell  asleep, 
regardless  of  gains.  The  merchants  have 
no  mental  arithmetic,  and  near  the  gate  sat 
the  cash-men  with  soraban,  or  little  beaded 
frames,  on  which  all  sums  are  counted,  much 
like  the  school  frames  with  which  our  chil- 
dren learn  their  tables.  Loaded  with  bun- 
dles of  remnants,  the  ladies  approached  the 
treasurer  at  the  gate,  to  sum  up  accounts. 
Bundle  boys,  with  rice  paper  and  rice  strings, 
wrapped  the  purchase  like  a  portfolio,  which 
was  always  too  small  for  its  contents. 

Robbery  is  possible  in  Japan,  and  kimono 
sleeves  are  well  adapted  for  shoplifting,  and, 
mounted  outside  the  rail,  were  spotters  ready 
to  detect  any  suspicious  movement  on  the 

245 


A  Woman  Alone 

part  of  the  little  ladies.  I  was  the  only  sus- 
pect who  gave  trouble.  Passing  the  gate, 
I  went  down  on  my  knees  among  the  tro- 
phies in  a  state  of  devotion.  I  had  been 
warned  that  there  were  no  foreign  goods. 
"  These  sales  are  only  Japanese  goods,  for 
the  Japanese,"  said  a  man.  "  But  I  want 
to  buy  Japanese  things.  That  is  why  I  came. 
Won't  my  money  go?  "  I  asked.  The  logic 
prevailed,  but  prices  are  always  so  exalted 
for  the  foreigner  that,  naturally,  the  sales- 
man did  not  wish  to  see  me  getting  goods 
at  bottom  prices. 

"  Cheap  as  mud,  and  going  at  a  song," 
I  chanted,  as  I  lifted  the  slabs,  not  knowing 
the  price-marks,  nor  the  quantity  contained. 
But  delight  in  a  prospective  bargain  brought 
the  woman's  nature  to  the  front.  There  were 
pieces  of  rich  brocade  which  would  make 
stunning  draperies,  sofa-cushions,  vests,  thea- 
tre coats.  I  clutched  and  grabbed,  overthrew 
babies,  and  ran  down  gentle  women.  The 
floor  was  thrown  into  confusion.  Why  had 
I  omitted  Japanese  in  my  tourist's  outfit? 
The  salesmen  had  no  English  when  I  made 
an  appeal.  I  had  made  a  wild  chase,  and 
perspired  like  a  running  rikman.  I  jerked 
off  my  heavy  jacket,  and,  unluckily,  threw  it 

246 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

across  the  shoulder  which  protected  in  its 
armpit  a  weight  of  glorious  samples.  Then 
I  deliberately  darted  for  the  street  to  leave 
the  jacket  in  the  riksha.  Not  for  unknown 
worlds  would  I  have  left  the  bargains  be- 
hind, which  some  native  lady  of  similar 
taste  might  appropriate  in  my  absence. 

My  erratic  conduct  admitted  of  but  one 
conclusion.  It  was  the  boldest  bit  of  robbery 
ever  committed  in  the  Mitsui  house.  The 
natives  may  steal,  but  they  will  always  be 
polite  and  quiet  about  it.  They  will  be 
gentle  and  mannerly.  A  wild  charge  like 
mine,  an  unblushing  piece  of  effrontery,  quite 
passed  their  comprehension.  It  took  their 
breath,  and  for  a  moment  unnerved  them  for 
action.  I  advanced  a  few  feet  untouched, 
while  they  stood  speechless  and  appalled. 
They  regained  presence  of  mind,  as  they 
saw  the  vanishing  point  of  the  goods.  The 
watchmen  gave  the  slogan,  and  runners  fell 
upon  me  like  avenging  angels.  I  innocently 
thought  they  were  running  to  my  aid.  It 
became  an  instance  of  the  catcher  caught. 
The  man  grabbed  the  goods,  and  I  grabbed 
the  man,  to  hold  him  with  Masonic  grip. 

"You  speak  English?  Who  speaks  Eng- 
lish? Where  is  interpreter  to  tell  me  of 

247 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  goods? "  The  men  were  unconvinced. 
The  robbery  had  been  too  bold  for  me  to 
fake  innocent  purchase.  They  seized  the 
remnants,  sent  the  jacket  to  the  rik,  and 
called  for  the  head  of  the  department.  He 
was  polite,  he  spoke  pretty  English,  and  he 
wore  elegant  clothes. 

Till  six  P.  M.,  he  guided  me  through  a 
labyrinth  of  lovely  weavings,  and  revealed 
the  glories  of  the  loom.  One  regal  obi,  four 
and  a  half  yards  long,  cost  370  yen.  It  was 
like  tapestry,  a  blaze  of  gold  thread  with 
beautiful  designs.  It  would  have  been  a 
handsome  addition  to  Gobelin  hangings.  I 
left  it  hanging! 

We  were  up-stairs  in  the  elegant  show- 
rooms, discussing  prices,  when,  at  five  P.  M. 
Sunday,  the  store  closed  down,  and  the  de- 
spairing rikman  sent  in  to  inquire  if  his  prey 
had  slipped  out  by  a  side  door  and  left  the 
unpaid  chariot  on  his  hands.  Surely  the 
natives  seemed  to  place  little  faith  in  the 
foreigner.  The  exquisite  furnishings  of  the 
lavish  reception-room  made  it  a  princely 
retreat.  Smoking-sets  and  crisp  wafers  were 
at  hand,  and  tea  was  prompt  to  arrive.  An 
elegant  customer  offered  me  the  contents  of 
his  gold  cigarette-case.  We  cast  up  accounts, 

248 


and  a  hundred-yen  piece  rejoiced  the  inter- 
preter for  his  long  afternoon,  and  proved 
that  the  purchaser  was  no  common  thief. 

The  large  store  was  quiet  as  I  passed  out 
by  a  side  door,  and  noted  that  salesmen  and 
spotters  were  resting  from  work,  and  ac- 
countants were  telling  their  beads  in  the  back 
rooms.  The  gracious  linguist  bowed  me 
away,  and  rikky  gave  me  a  satisfied  grin  as 
he  thought  of  his  earnings  while  he  had 
rested  throughout  the  afternoon,  and  he  trun- 
dled me  away,  both  of  us  content  with  the 
results  of  a  native  bargain  sale. 

Rice  Culture 

The  summer  passed  in  talk  about  the  crops. 
Gossipy  coolies  discussed  the  vital  theme. 
In  the  pigmy  paddocks  men  and  women 
waded  ankle-deep  in  the  mire,  braving  the 
bite  of  venomous  creatures,  while  they 
weeded  the  farms.  Constant  rain  would  rot 
the  rice,  just  as  drought  would  burn  it. 
There  had  been  incessant  weeks  of  deluge, 
and  dread  and  fear  were  abroad.  The  price 
had  risen,  famine  was  in  prospect,  and  the 
poor  would  face  starvation.  Even  tKe  selfish 
tourist  was  willing  that  the  hot  sun  should 

249 


A  Woman  Alone 

redeem  the  soggy  earth.  At  the  crisis  of 
anxiety,  a  few  bright  days  of  overwhelming 
heat  allayed  the  fears.  The  rice  was  saved 
and  the  panic  was  stayed. 

Japan's  great  trade  is  evolved  through 
home  industry.  On  a  small  scale,  in  all  the 
little  hamlets,  work  is  carried  on. 

Our  vast  prairie  farms,  with  machines  of 
every  patent  device  for  sowing  and  garner- 
ing, are  unknown  to  the  simple  natives.  As 
the  grain  ripens,  workmen  comb  the  kernels 
before  their  door,  and  thresh  the  grain  with 
crude  hand-flails.  The  men  of  "  Pillsbury's 
A "  would  scorn  the  country  flour-mill  of 
Japan,  where  the  natives  beat  the  wheat  and 
barley  into  flour  beside  the  running  streams. 
An  overshot  wheel  without  connects  with  a 
beam  within  doors,  which  drops  a  crude 
piston,  thump,  thump,  into  an  earthen  jar 
set  in  the  ground,  where  the  cereal  is 
crushed.  Kernels  pushed  aside  by  the  piston 
fall  back  to  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  as  the 
piston  rises.  The  workers  repeatedly  sift  the 
grain  till  it  is  sufficiently  small.  Beside  all 
the  running  brooks  one  sees  this  primitive 
method.  The  dark,  rough  shanties  of  mud 
or  thatch  are  home  and  mill  to  the  poor 
people,  who  have  barely  a  half-partition 

250 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

separating  compartments.  Here,  in  the  dark 
and  the  dust,  lives  the  large  family,  breathing 
all  day  the  sifting  particles  of  the  mill. 

The  Rice  Exchange 

From  the  planting  of  the  kernel  to  the  sell- 
ing of  the  same,  rice  is  of  paramount  inter- 
est in  Japan.  But  the  trip  to  the  exchange 
was  not  so  funny,  nor  so  thrilling,  as  I  had 
expected.  The  rikman  dropped  me  before 
a  long,  low  shed,  which  would  have  been 
an  insult  to  an  American  stable,  and  I  passed 
behind  a  railing,  while  merchants  huddled 
on  the  floor  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  grum- 
bled and  rumbled  a  steady  stream  of  small 
talk  in  polite  and  proper  tones.  This  was  a 
very  correct  affair,  not  the  wild  row  of  New 
York,  nor  the  mad  lunacy  of  the  Paris 
Bourse,  heard  for  blocks  away.  My  advent 
caused  a  lull  in  business,  which  also  seemed 
different  from  New  York.  No  woman's 
presence  subdues  that  pandemonium.  But 
many  a  winged  native  left  the  market  to  lean 
on  the  rail  and  puff  his  smoke  serenely  in 
my  face,  as  he  studied  the  foreign  Eve  who 
had  the  nerve  to  invade  his  paradise.  Evi- 
dently petticoats  were  an  unknown  element 

251 


A  Woman  Alone 

in  their  realm,   and  my  presence  caused  a 
lull  in  stocks. 

The  market  was  saved  by  an  anxious  usher, 
who  whispered  mysteries  and  beckoned  me 
through  the  office,  where  men  of  affairs  lei- 
surely read  the  newspapers,  up  a  gloomy 
back  stairway  to  an  attic  room  with  doleful 
furnishings  of  green  rep  chairs  and  table- 
cloth. A  steamer-chair  was  the  only  com- 
fort, and  a  smoking-set  was  the  prime  essen- 
tial. It  was  hot  with  embers,  and  the  usher 
suggestively  pushed  it  toward  me.  Then  he 
read  a  long  and  fluent  riot  act,  punctured 
with  smiles  and  brimming  with  bows.  My 
imagination  made  a  wild  guess  at  his  mean- 
ing. Doubtless,  with  native  politeness,  he 
expressed  appreciation  of  the  honour  done 
the  humble  exchange  by  my  visit,  and,  with 
an  instinctive  eye  to  business,  asked  what 
stock  I  would  take,  and  if  I  would  water 
it,  and  if  I  would  corner  the  market.  I 
finally  replied  with  a  negative  nod,  and  sad- 
ness passed  over  his  face  as  he  caught  a  dis- 
solving view  of  the  colossal  sale.  He  showed 
me  how  to  use  the  push-bell,  intimating  that 
I  might  ring  for  help  when  I  had  decided 
on  my  bid  and  the  number  of  shares.  Then 
he  dilcked  and  wriggled  away,  leaving  me  to 

252 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ruminate  on  my  past  history  and  on  the  pres- 
ent excitement  of  the  Japanese  'change. 

The  situation  hit  my  risibles.  Silence  and 
solitude  as  substitute  for  noise  and  crowds! 
An  upper  room,  much  like  a  prison  cell, 
except  that  I  had  power  to  manipulate  the 
market  by  touch  of  the  tintinnabulator.  The 
stowaway  in  the  vessel's  hold  would  not  have 
more  privacy  than  I  in  this  business  centre. 
Surely  there  must  be  something  doing,  de- 
spite the  apparent  depression,  so  I  picked 
up  my  courage  and  slid  stealthily  down  the 
narrow  stairway  and  through  the  office  of  the 
busy  men,  who  gave  me  a  worried  glance 
from  their  newspapers.  I  sneaked  behind  a 
pillar  that  shut  off  the  active  usher,  and 
watched  the  shuffling  crowds,  who  mumbled 
the  figures  and  watched  the  results  with  pas- 
sive faces  and  folded  arms.  If  the  men  were 
hopeful  or  despairing,  they  showed  no  signs. 

The  Stock  Exchange 

The  stock  exchange  was  a  lively  contrast. 
It  is  not  usually  open  to  the  foreigner;  but 
a  little  red  tape  secured  the  pass,  which  I 
presented  at  the  lobby.  A  polite  native  came 
out  to  examine  the  applicant  and  conduct 

253 


A  Woman  Alone 

me  to  the  rostrum.  Evidently  I  was  not  the 
first  guest,  and  my  advent  did  not  startle 
the  market.  The  stock  exchange  of  Tokio 
means  a  company,  and  not  individual  mem- 
bers. It  is  open  from  nine  to  ten-thirty  A.  M. 
and  from  one  till  two  P.  M.,  a  short  day's 
work  compared  with  that  in  many  cities. 

Three  hundred  wild-eyed  men  stood  within 
the  railing,  shrieking  their  figures  in  proof 
of  the  battle.  The  excitement  was  what  I 
would  expect.  All  were  men  of  means  and 
position,  and  the  types  were  an  interesting 
study.  A  tall  patriarch  with  a  Moses  beard 
grew  rampant,  and  screamed  his  figures  with 
the  zest  of  a  maniac.  A  small  man  in  Eu- 
ropean suit  and  white  vest,  with  one  eye, 
kept  that  eye  riveted  on  the  boards,  while 
a  grim  smile  played  on  his  face.  He  surely 
would  play  a  big  game  to  the  finish.  Men 
pushed  and  scrambled  to  the  front.  Railway 
stock,  electric  shares,  steamship  interests,  were 
called,  and  roused  a  furor  among  the  differ- 
ent contingents.  Small  boys,  on  a  platform, 
hung  the  slabs  with  mystic  marks,  which  told 
what  sale  was  on.  Gallery  boys,  with  paint 
pot  and  brush,  with  a  dash  of  white  slapped 
the  final  figures  on  the  blackboards,  that 


254 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

looked  like  a  series  of  memorial  slabs  hung 
to  departed  spirits. 

My  guide,  apologizing  for  his  laboured 
English,  that  stammered  and  limped  on  his 
tongue,  explained  the  signs  of  the  times. 
"  Mooch  acteevitee  eez  prevailing  nowdays," 
he  said  with  delight.  The  phrase  was  his 
great  linguistic  triumph,  and  he  pulled  it 
out  as  the  Nippon  Yusen  shares  were  called. 
They  were  the  popular  war-cry,  and  raised 
a  mad  uproar.  Frenzied  natives  surged  to 
the  front.  Clogs  rattled  loudly  in  a  general 
stampede.  Kimono  sleeves  were  entangled 
with  their  neighbours.  Men  shoved  back  the 
offending  sleeves,  and  rushed  into  each  oth- 
er's faces,  with  arm  outstretched,  and  fingers 
poking  at  each  other's  eyes,  to  indicate  per 
cent.  A  violent  push  of  the  fingers  outward 
accompanied  the  loud  cry,  "  I  sell,  sell,  sell." 
A  nervous  beckoning  went  with  the  gleeful 
cry,  "  I  take,  take,  take."  Excitement  cen- 
tred about  a  half-dozen  bundles  of  wasting 
energy.  They  seemed  about  to  stab,  to  im- 
pale each  other  on  the  railing.  Yet  the  wild- 
est frenzy  was  tinctured  with  good-natured 
mirth.  An  idiotic  creature,  with  bristles  and 
fangs,  grinned  like  a  jolly  schoolboy,  as  he 
ran  down  his  fat  antagonist,  and  the  latter 

255 


A  Woman  Alone 

returned  a  roaring  laugh.  Buying  and  sell- 
ing steamship  shares  seemed  the  huge  joke 
of  the  century,  and  the  grinny  foe,  with  the 
shiny  billiard-ball  head,  was  so  fat  and  jolly, 
so  clean  and  smily,  that  he  would  have 
graced  a  circus  or  a  pulpit.  In  sober  mo- 
ments he  was  the  prototype  of  a  temple 
priest. 

The  Nippon  Yusen  Kaisha 

The  Nippon  Yusen  Kaisha  sale  was  the 
climax  of  the  day.  All  was  over  in  the 
shouting  scene,  as  the  brokers  clogged  home- 
ward, with  the  day's  work  done,  when  its 
shares  were  hung  at  seventy-nine.  Some 
years  ago  its  capital  of  twenty-two  million 
yen  was  held  by  440,000  sharers,  at  fifty  yen 
a  share.  The  successful  close  of  the  war  with 
China  boomed  the  company,  whose  shares 
for  a  time  reached  the  abnormal  value  of 
105  yen.  With  seventy-six  strong  steamers, 
it  has  had  an  aggregate  tonnage  of  242,000. 
In  extent  of  service  and  of  tonnage  it  is  the 
seventh  line  in  the  world. 

Thus  the  young  nation,  born  into  the  com- 
mercial world  within  the  last  half-century, 
has  made  a  noble  record  for  industry,  enter- 

256 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

prise,  energy,  and  wealth.  Bound  somewhat 
by  traditions,  by  obscurity,  and  seclusion  for 
centuries,  by  the  disfavour  of  many  nations 
toward  a  people  not  Christian,  what  other 
nation  so  handicapped  in  the  race  would 
have  made  such  a  record  for  progress  and 
activity?  Japan  has  pitted  herself  with  won- 
drous power  against  the  modern  world,  and 
to-day,  a  people  hoary  with  the  age  of  cen- 
turies, ranking  themselves  proudly  with 
Christian  peoples,  is  battling  hard  for  su- 
premacy, while  the  laurels  have  been  fast 
wrenched  away  by  the  little  nation,  brave 
and  brainy,  whom  the  great  world  has  half- 
despised  and  never  known.  The  vast  fleet 
which  plied  the  perilous  waters  to  wage 
bloody  war  bore  a  marvellous  record  for 
safety,  and  the  travellers'  boats  which  have 
run  to  America,  Asia,  Europe,  India,  Aus- 
tralia have  been  immensely  popular.  They 
are  always  clean  and  cautious.  They  are 
famed  for  good  service  and  for  courteous 
attention.  Daily  do  the  captain,  physician, 
and  purser  make  the  rounds  of  the  boat  to- 
gether, entering  every  cabin  to  see  that  all 
is  cleanly  and  well  ordered.  Never  have 
I  known  this  attention  on  an  Atlantic  liner. 
No  wonder  that  their  stock  stood  foremost  in 

257 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  fluctuating  market,  and  that  Japanese 
brokers  watch  its  progress  with  an  eye  keen 
for  current  values,  and  are  quick  to  buy  its 
shares. 

Mr.  Kaivada 

The  loyal  American  is  pleased  to  believe 
that  much  of  this  prosperity  is  due  to  the 
rare  ability  of  its  general  manager,  who  is 
an  exponent  of  the  best  methods  of  two  great 
nations,  which  should  join  hands  across  the 
seas.  Mr.  Kawada,  graduate  of  Ann  Arbor, 
'94,  spent  eight  years  in  America  in  prepara- 
tory and  college  life.  He  is  a  wonderful 
combination  of  the  dignity,  the  grace  and 
courtesy,  the  reserve  power  of  his  own  peo- 
ple, with  the  push  and  enterprise,  the  busi- 
ness energy  of  the  able  American.  He  was 
sensitive  to  his  environment,  and  his  life  in 
the  States  gave  him  a  broad  outlook  on  the 
business  world,  and  ripened  all  those  powers 
which  are  the  essentials  of  the  tactful  busi- 
ness manager,  who  must  come  in  sharp  touch 
with  all  sorts  of  people,  and  must  be  a  keen 
student  of  human  nature,  if  he  would  success- 
fully handle  men.  A  fine  product  of  one  of 
our  strongest  institutions,  he  is  an  important 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

factor  in  the  work  of  the  large  company. 
His  English  is  well  spoken,  his  French  is 
good,  and,  if  a  German  sought  advice,  Mr. 
Kawada  could  readily  give  points  for  the 
passage  and  map  out  the  route.  The  scholar 
who  has  mastered  his  own  native  language 
of  the  Orient  has  little  difficulty  in  acquir- 
ing the  comparatively  easy  tongues  of  the 
Occident.  Mr.  Kawada  has  an  inexhausti- 
ble fund  of  information  for  the  straying  tour- 
ist of  any  nation,  and  America  may  rejoice 
that  he  is  an  exponent  of  her  own  institutions, 
an  adopted  son  worthy  to  spread  her  wisdom 
and  her  glory  among  his  own  people  on  the 
isle  of  Nippon. 


259 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WOMAN'S  EDUCATION  IN  JAPAN 

The  Emancipation  of  the  Japanese  Woman 

DAY  has  dawned  for  woman  in  Japan.  A 
few  years  ago,  the  educated  native  woman 
was  an  unknown  quantity.  All  her  aspira- 
tions were  flouted,  and  she  was  regarded  as 
an  unnatural  bugaboo.  The  story  is  told  of 
four  girls  on  education  bent,  who  formed  a 
suicide's  quartette,  resolved  to  learn  or  die 
in  the  effort.  One  and  then  another  ap- 
pealed, through  father,  brother,  and  univer- 
sity, for  the  opportunity  to  work  out  life  on 
advanced  lines  of  thought.  Their  very  argu- 
ments were  the  weapons  turned  against  them, 
to  prove  that  higher  education  was  bad  for 
women.  Two  girls  were  refused  all  help. 
They  committed  suicide.  Christian  mission- 
aries saved  the  other  two  from  the  same  sto- 
ical fate.  To-day  learning  is  the  passion  of 

260 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

these  people,  and  modern  methods  are  their 
delight.  The  humblest  peasant  has  his  Eng- 
lish primer,  and  opportunity  is  given  to  girl 
or  boy,  since  all  the  nation  knows  that  by 
the  power  of  modern  learning  Japan  has 
taken  a  front  rank  among  civilized  peoples. 
Japanese  statesmen  now  realize  the  fact  that 
the  little  girls  of  to-day  are  the  mothers  of 
to-morrow,  and  that  the  training  of  citizen, 
soldier,  patriot  rests  largely  with  them. 
Woman,  once  relegated  to  obscurity,  has 
now  come  to  the  foreground.  Schools  for 
girls  are  many,  with  a  curriculum  based  on 
that  of  foreign  nations,  and  often  conducted 
by  foreigners  or  by  foreign-trained  teachers. 

The  Girls'  Industrial  School 

The  Girls'  Industrial  School  of  Tokio  fits 
its  pupils  for  a  practical,  honest  livelihood. 
For  twenty  years  it  has  been  established 
under  a  president  and  board  of  directors. 
The  natives  have  no  fear  of  long  hours,  and 
do  not  call  for  short  days,  —  till  after  they 
leave  Japan,  —  and  from  eight  A.  M.  till  four 
P.  M.  the  girls  work  at  their  chosen  calling. 
A  German,  who  has  lived  a  quarter  of  a 
century  in  the  country,  and  understands  tht 

261 


A  Woman  Alone 

natives  and  their  language,  has  charge  of  the 
sewing.  Being  married  to  a  Japanese,  and 
the  mother  of  girls,  she  can  sympathize  with 
the  pupils,  who  furnish  their  own  material, 
and  work  out  the  intricacies  of  underwear 
and  overwear,  and  plan  the  national  kimono. 

Sewing  and  Embroidery 

Accuracy  is  a  feature  of  all  Japanese  work, 
and  patient,  exacting  care  is  given  the  wad- 
ding which  lines  a  garment,  as  the  people 
put  no  stress  on  show  or  surface  work.  The 
pupils  kneel  beside  their  many-tiered  work- 
box,  and  patiently  evolve  the  garments  which 
will  be  the  proof  of  their  skill. 

The  making  of  kimonos  on  their  native 
heath  is  an  essential  and  natural  part  of 
needlework;  but  the  fanciful  feature  of  their 
handiwork  results  in  a  hideous  display  of 
ugly  knit  and  crochet  work,  which  we  long 
ago  learned  to  throw  overboard,  as  a  futile 
and  barbaric  invention  for  woman.  It  seems 
a  queer  inconsistency  that  these  artistic  little 
women  should  adopt  what  they  never  can 
adapt  in  wools  and  worsted,  and  arrive  at 
such  hideous  conclusions,  when  by  nature 
their  taste  is  exquisite.  Perhaps  it  is  an  in- 

262 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

stance  of  German  ugliness  thrust  upon  them. 
All  the  world  knows  that  no  nation  surpasses, 
if  it  equals,  the  Japanese  in  beautiful  em- 
broideries, when  the  people  are  left  to  their 
own  devices. 

In  the  sewing-school,  also,  is  included  the 
making  of  dolls  and  wild  animals,  very  wild 
indeed,  to  judge  from  their  wondrous  anat- 
omy. The  result  is  an  uncaged  menagerie, 
less  harmful  than  it  looks  at  first  sight,  of 
dogs,  lions,  elephants,  fish,  and  fowl.  The 
creatures  are  dear  to  the  native  heart,  and 
have  a  ready  sale  in  the  market.  In  their 
eagerness  to  be  Western,  the  people  incline 
to  anything  foreign,  regardless  of  what  we 
have  discarded,  or  how  we  have  improved. 
They  would  seem  to  have  culled  the  worst 
we  ever  had  to  offer,  if  the  gaudy  caps  and 
spectrum  bibs  are  samples,  and  their  varie- 
gated mats  might  give  delirium  tremens  to 
a  sober  man.  Wristlets  and  garters  have 
some  raison  d'etre  among  a  people  poorly 
clad,  but  the  monstrosities  might  be  spared. 
The  foreigner's  best  is  none  too  good  for  the 
dainty  native,  and  we  should  not  foist  our 
back  numbers,  which  have  long  been  known 
as  waste  trash,  upon  these  eager  little  peo- 
ple, who  are  anxious  to  acquire  foreign  art. 

263 


A  Woman  Alone 

Their  own  beautiful  embroidery  is  much 
better,  and  will  always  be  prized  at  home 
and  abroad. 

Pattering  cautiously  in  my  stockings 
among  the  frames,  I  watched  wonderful 
results  grow  from  satin  background.  Bird 
and  flower  and  landscape  were  evolved  with 
taste  and  patience  and  consummate  skill  on 
cover,  screen,  and  kakemono. 

Drawing 

Drawing,  too,  is  very  dear  to  the  Japanese, 
though,  strangely  enough,  they  know  nothing 
of  life  classes,  nature  and  object  work.  They 
usually  work  from  the  flat  copy,  and  seldom 
do  they  really  sketch.  Twice  I  saw  a  sad 
attempt  to  copy  a  stuffed  bird  from  the 
show-case.  The  results  were  pitiful.  The 
spirit  of  the  feathered  fowl  would  never  have 
recognized  himself  in  the  "  impressionist " 
picture,  which  violated  all  ornithological 
conditions.  The  people  are  keen  copyists, 
but  they  have  done  little  with  the  natural 
form,  which  we  believe  is  the  foundation  of 
art. 


264 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Artificial  Flowers 

Imitation  is  at  its  best  in  the  flower  manu- 
facture. This  is  the  delight  of  the  scholars, 
and  their  deft  ringers  work  charming  results. 
Ancestral  worship,  plus  flower  worship, 
stands  close  to  the  religion  of  the  country, 
and  these  floral  copyists  get  very  close  to 
nature.  The  visitor  may  watch  the  flower's 
growth  through  every  stage  of  development. 
Each  bench  has  its  dish  of  paints  and  its  hot 
hebachi  for  firing  the  tools.  The  metal 
moulds  of  leaves  and  petals  are  put  under  a 
heavy  press,  and  the  perfect  form  emerges. 
The  painting  is  most  skilful,  as  the  edges  are 
tinted  and  the  centre  is  shaded  after  the  fash- 
ion of  the  flower.  Stems  of  fine  wire  are 
rolled  in  green  paper.  A  delicate  tool, 
heated  in  the  embers,  is  pressed  into  the 
dainty  calyx  or  corolla,  to  give  each  sepal 
or  petal  its  peculiar  form.  Minute  forceps 
adjust  it  to  the  stem.  Stamens  are  inserted, 
each  with  its  tufted  top,  for  anther.  The 
pistil  is  dipped  in  a  mass  of  yellow  flakes, 
to  form  the  feathery  pollen.  On  the  left 
hand,  below  the  thumb,  the  pupil  carries 
the  paste  in  which  she  dips  the  wee  organs 
before  they  are  placed  on  the  flower.  Care 

265 


A  Woman  Alone 

and  patience,  love  and  pleasure  attend  the 
flower's  growth,  and  a  garden  of  brilliant 
buttercups,  dainty  cherry-blossoms,  clusters 
of  asters,  the  running  morning-glory,  the 
drooping  wistaria,  the  feathery  heather,  pan- 
sies,  and  daisies  give  radiant  effect.  So  deep- 
rooted  is  their  love  for  flowers,  whether  it 
be  of  the  lotus-pond  and  iris-meadow,  or  of 
the  miniature  and  the  artificial,  that  the  Jap- 
anese must  have  flowers  of  some  sort.  Per- 
haps the  constant  contact  with  the  posies,  real 
or  simulated,  may  be  a  key-note  to  the  na- 
tional courtesy  and  gentleness.  Certainly  it 
is  a  practical  education,  and  flower  culture 
of  any  kind  will  always  be  in  demand. 
Flowers,  real  or  artificial,  will  find  a  ready 
market  with  natives  and  foreigners. 

The  Girls'  High  School 

Three  courses  of  study,  the  technical,  the 
scientific,  and  the  literary,  are  included  in 
the  Girls'  High  School.  Sewing  and  draw- 
ing have  much  attention  here,  and  strong 
work  is  done  in  history  and  national  litera- 
ture. Science  has  a  crude  beginning,  along 
lines  which  have  been  so  well  defined  in  our 
own  country.  I  saw  no  compound  micro- 

266 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

scopes  with  various  objectives.  Each  scholar 
was  provided  with  a  specimen^  a  pan  of 
water,  and  a  simple  pocket  lens.  Her  little 
tool-box  held  a  scalpel  and  a  probe,  two  pairs 
of  scissors,  and  two  of  forceps.  A  specimen 
hardened  in  alcohol  was  ready  for  drawing. 
Specimens  are  certainly  plentiful,  and  one 
might  hope  for  original  work  and  life  study 
in  a  land  where  the  cicada  singeth  unceas- 
ingly. Alas!  the  little  ladies  are  not  so  sci- 
ence-trained. Perhaps  they  have  not  the 
nerve  to  tear  a  creature  limb  from  limb. 
The  cicada  had  been  drawn  and  quartered, 
labelled  and  analyzed  in  advance,  and  all  his 
parts  were  duly  named  upon  the  blackboard, 
"  dorsal-ventral-egg-guide,"  and  again  the 
work  was  conscientious  copy  rather  than 
original  research.  Carefully  each  pupil 
sketched,  and  results  were  of  varied  skill. 
Some  were  marked  by  a  trained  eye  and 
steady  hand  and  a  keen  observance  of  winged 
venation,  while  others  were  decidedly  imag- 
inative, and  indulged  in  wild  flights  of  col- 
our, blue  and  red-yellow  entering  into  the 
scheme,  not  apparent  in  the  original  insect, 
but  suggestive  of  the  solar  spectrum.  Eng- 
lish labels  were  strangely  distorted,  but  the 
effort  was  always  honest. 

267 


A  Woman  Alone 

The  entrance  of  a  visitor  causes  no  com- 
motion in  the  schoolroom.  It  is  barely  no- 
ticed, as  the  scholars  work  as  if  entranced 
with  their  subject,  which  is  an  all-important, 
all-engrossing  matter.  Fun  and  mischief 
have  no  part  on  the  programme.  They 
would  be  an  incomprehensible  interruption 
to  the  earnest  work,  and  they  never  occur. 
The  levity  which  may  mark  an  American 
schoolroom  would  scandalize  these  sedate 
little  ladies,  who  come  to  school  for  work 
solely. 

About  four  hundred  scholars,  from  all 
over  the  island,  are  studying  here,  to  go  out 
as  teachers  to  all  parts.  Over  two  hundred 
are  boarders.  A  dozen  girls  occupy  a  hall, 
whose  dormitories  are  fitted  with  single  cots 
of  foreign  make.  Schoolgirls  here,  as 
throughout  the  empire,  are  known  by  their 
dark  kimonos  and  magenta  skirts.  In  the 
dining-room  long  wooden  benches  seat  the 
girls,  and  long  tables  are  stacked  with  the 
food.  Each  girl  has  her  chop-sticks  and 
bowl  of  rice,  a  bowl  of  cut  fruits,  a  little 
teapot,  and  a  big  slice  of  bread.  Though  the 
dormitory  has  adopted  foreign  ways,  the  eat- 
ing is  decidedly  native.  The  teachers  sit  at 


268 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

a  separate  table,  and  at  intervals  on  the  tables 
stand  little  firkins  with  relays  of  food. 

The  head  master  speaks  excellent  English, 
and  is  proud  of  his  training  at  the  Oswego 
Normal.  A  grand  and  fitting  tribute  he  paid 
to  the  memory  of  that  woman,  good  and 
great,  whose  especial  work  in  history  at  Os- 
wego, at  Wellesley,  and  at  Stanford  has 
given  her  fame  in  the  educational  world,  as 
her  gentle  deeds  and  loving  heart  have  en- 
deared the  name  of  Mary  Sheldon  Barnes 
to  thousands  of  worshipful  students,  and  have 
made  her  grave,  in  the  cemetery  of  Rome, 
a  pilgrim's  shrine. 

Woman's  University 

Japan  owes  many  a  modern  impulse  to 
America.  A  sunburst  of  progress  has  bright- 
ened the  land  in  the  last  half-century,  and 
the  advancement  of  woman,  though  slow, 
even  now  in  the  embryo,  emerging  by  change 
and  development  from  a  past  bound  by 
traditions  and  encrusted  by  prejudices,  shows 
magical  results.  As  a  part  of  the  new  move- 
ment, the  Woman's  University  is  a  thrilling 
surprise,  both  to  native  and  foreigner.  It  is 
the  hope  and  triumph  of  a  Christian  gentle- 

269 


A  Woman  Alone 

man,  whose  life  is  given  to  education,  whose 
strength  is  devoted  to  the  betterment  of 
his  countrywomen.  His  work  is  based  on 
American  ideals.  President  Naruse  was  im- 
pressed with  the  educational  methods  of  the 
States,  while  a  student  at  Andover  Seminary 
and  at  Clark  University.  In  an  extended 
tour  through  America,  he  visited  all  the  lead- 
ing colleges  for  women,  and  returned  to 
Japan  in  1894  determined  to  erect  a  similar 
institution  in  his  own  country. 

Count  Okuma  and  other  prominent  men, 
who  believe  in  the  nation's  need  of  intelli- 
gent women,  gave  money  to  the  scheme,  and 
in  April,  1901,  the  University  was  opened. 
Its  wide  grounds  are  on  a  hill  outside  the 
city  limits.  The  approach  is  through  an 
avenue  of  cherry-trees  which,  in  springtide, 
lend  a  wondrous  glory  to  the  place.  Flow- 
ering plants  beautify  the  grounds.  Tennis- 
courts  stretch  out  before  the  big  buildings, 
whose  rooms  are  large  and  light  and  airy. 
The  schoolrooms  are  marked  by  all  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  native  homes.  No  ornaments 
relieve  the  bareness.  The  large  assembly- 
room  has  cushioned  benches.  The  study- 
rooms  have  the  most  primitive  wooden  desks, 
hand-made,  and  straight-backed  chairs  with 

37° 


PRESIDENT    NARUSE 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

no  fanciful  touch.  There  are  no  ink-wells, 
for  each  scholar  furnishes  her  own  ink-bottle. 
There  are  three  distinct  courses,  the  high 
school,  the  preparatory,  and  the  university. 
The  management  plans  to  make  a  complete 
system,  by  extending  the  work  down,  through 
the  grammar,  primary,  and  kindergarten 
grades,  thus  giving  perfect  sequence  to  the 
entire  course,  with  no  abrupt  transitions. 
Many  come  from  other  schools,  unprepared 
for  the  university,  and  the  preparatory  work 
supplements  their  lack.  In  the  high  school, 
girls  of  thirteen  years  are  fitting  for  the  uni- 
versity. 

The  Gymnasium 

In  the  large  gymnasium,  furnished  with 
clubs,  rings,  and  dumb-bells,  the  pupils  give 
three  hours  a  week  to  physical  culture,  to  the 
development  of  "a  healthy  mind  in  a  healthy 
body."  The  ring  exercise,  as  I  saw  it  per- 
formed in  pairs,  was  more  amusing  than 
serious.  The  girls  had  little  idea  of  military 
measure,  and  kept  a  time  all  their  own, 
stepped  as  they  pleased,  and  moved  as  they 
chose,  regardless  of  the  signals,  and  the  em- 
phatic accent  pounded  out  by  the  stirring 

271 


A  Woman  Alone 

notes  of  "  Ta-ra-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,"  which 
might  have  pleased  the  immortal  Lottie  Col- 
lins. This  strain  of  American  music  rings 
through  all  the  Orient,  and  at  any  port  will 
greet  the  American,  to  his  pleasure  or  pain, 
in  proportion  to  his  love  for  music  hoydenish 
or  classical. 

Instruction  in  English 

Especially  is  it  true  of  English  that  its 
chief  stumbling-block  is  the  pronunciation, 
and  those  who  have  studied  long  and  learned 
much  have  so  little  hold  on  our  strange  com- 
binations that  their  speech  is  often  nearly 
impossible  to  follow.  An  advanced  class, 
reading  "  Evangeline,"  could  by  no  means 
have  been  understood,  except  by  one  well 
used  to  the  pupils,  or  well  versed  in  the  poem. 
That  such  mutilated  jargon  could  exist  in 
"  The  forest  primeval,  the  wavering  pines 
and  the  hemlocks,"  one  would  never  have 
guessed.  It  would  seem  that  the  first  step  in 
making  English  practical  should  be  exact 
pronunciation  of  our  difficult  sounds,  and 
whether  the  disastrous  results,  as  noticed 
within  and  without  schools  all  over  the  em- 
pire, were  due  to  lack  of  care  in  teaching, 

272 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

or  to  the  fact  that  accurate  speech  was  quite 
beyond  the  tireless  effort  of  the  teacher,  I 
could  not  decide.  Certainly  the  sincerest 
attempts  of  the  speaker  are  often  most  bewil- 
dering to  the  hearer.  "  Ivanhoe,"  as  ren- 
dered by  the  advanced  students  of  the  uni- 
versity, was  most  difficult  to  follow,  and  al- 
most as  unintelligible  to  me  as  if  it  were  a 
Japanese  translation. 

The  English  department  contained  a  li- 
brary of  encyclopaedias,  essays,  and  novels, 
and  here  was  the  only  attempt  at  schoolroom 
decoration  to  relieve  the  bareness  of  the 
walls.  A  cheerful  display  of  photographs 
brightened  the  rooms,  and  impressed  the 
greatness  of  English  heroes,  giving  evidence 
of  the  touch  of  a  foreign  hand.  Shakespeare, 
Tennyson,  Milton  were  present,  with  fac- 
similes of  their  autograph  letters,  from  the 
British  Museum.  Burns's  Cottage,  Windsor 
Castle,  Parliament  Buildings,  and  old  cathe- 
drals spoke  of  history  and  architecture  in  a 
distant  land.  In  one  room,  I  was  attracted 
by  the  photographs  of  Robert  and  Elizabeth 
Browning.  "  She  deed  write  ze  l  Cry  of  ze 
Children '  varee  nice,"  said  my  little  guide, 
and  I  wondered  what  schoolgirl  in  America 
could  name  any  classic  of  Japanese  literature! 

273 


A  Woman  Alone 
Miss  He  we  s 

To  Miss  Hewes,  of  Oxford,  were  owed  the 
foreign  contributions.  In  her  around-the- 
world  tour,  she  lectured  extensively  through- 
out the  island,  and  taught  English  in  the 
University.  Her  tactless  assertion  against  the 
"American-English  "  was  hard  on  the  teach- 
ers, but  let  them  watch  their  words  and 
guard  their  lips,  ere  they  too  speedily  repudi- 
ate the  criticism,  which  certainly  had  a  germ 
of  truth.  Extremely  faulty  English,  among 
those  who  should  be  professional  models,  is 
a  sad  reflection  on  our  public  schools,  and  we 
are  often  tempted  to  ask,  "  Have  the  schools 
ceased  to  teach  English?"  When  the  teach- 
ers make  the  very  usual  errors  of  "  like  "  for 
"  as,"  when  they  say  "  this  much  "  and  "  those 
kind,"  they  condemn  themselves,  and  they 
should  correct  the  faults  ere  they  bubble  over 
with  wrath  and  bewail  the  general  charge. 
The  criticism  was  sweeping  and  severe,  and 
it  worked  havoc  for  American  teachers 
among  the  Japanese,  who  want  the  best  and 
who  are  easily  influenced.  Miss  Hewes  did 
good  work  for  the  little  people,  whose  love 
followed  her  to  England.  They  speak  of 
her  always  in  the  tenderest  terms,  and  her 

274 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

picture  adorns  many  a  scholar's  little  sanc- 
tum. Another  English  lady  now  fills  her 
position. 

Student  Life 

About  nine  hundred  pupils  are  in  the  Uni- 
versity, with  a  faculty  of  nearly  fifty.  One- 
half  the  scholars  are  day  pupils,  paying 
twenty-seven  and  a  half  yen  for  tuition  a 
year,  or  nearly  fourteen  dollars.  The  board- 
ers pay  six  and  a  half  yen  a  month  in  addi- 
tion, or  three  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents, 
so  that  the  entire  expense  of  board  and  tui- 
tion for  a  year  of  ten  months  is,  in  round 
numbers,  forty-six  dollars.  Not  a  huge  sum 
for  a  college  education ;  but  life  is  so  humble 
in  Japan  that  this  amount  can  only  be  raised 
in  well-to-do  families. 

The  school  buildings  are  flanked  by  large 
dormitories,  and  the  boarders  are  divided 
into  eight  squads,  each  having  its  supervis- 
ing matron.  Spotless  mattings  and  fresh, 
new  wood  are  a  feature  of  the  tiny  nests. 
Oddly  enough,  in  this  new  institution,  based 
on  foreign  methods,  every  bedroom  is  strictly 
native.  It  seems  a  wise  provision,  and  it  is 
followed  in  many  of  the  mission  schools,  that 

*75 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  pupils  who  are  absorbing  the  new  learn- 
ing shall  not  grow  out  of  harmony  and  out 
of  sympathy  with  home  life  and  native  ways, 
but  shall  keep  in  touch  with  the  life  which 
they  must  follow  when  they  leave  the  school, 
strengthened  for  work  by  the  new  thoughts 
they  have  garnered.  Hence,  every  native 
room  is  marked  by  emptiness  and  cleanliness. 
No  cot  or  couch  is  seen,  no  garment  or  toilet 
article  is  in  sight.  A  severe  simplicity  marks 
every  room.  A  very  low  table,  at  which  the 
occupant  kneels,  a  shelf  ranged  with  books, 
and  occasionally  a  loved  photograph  are  the 
items  which  relieve  the  utter  bareness.  It 
is  easy  to  sweep  an  empty  room,  and  it  can 
always  be  neat.  It  is  a  happy,  peaceful  con- 
trast to  the  tossed-up,  littered-up,  harum- 
scarum  apartment  of  the  average  American 
schoolgirl,  piled  with  an  inartistic  muddle 
of  the  odds  and  ends,  the  trophies  and  em- 
blems of  our  vigorous  life.  Repose  breathes 
in  every  corner  of  the  Japanese  student's 
room.  Rows  of  tin  boxes,  with  the  soap  and 
tooth-brush  of  each  little  lady,  are  in  a  near 
closet.  The  pupils  all  go  to  the  general 
wash-room  for  their  daily  bath  at  the  immac- 
ulate sink  of  wood,  with  its  high-polished 
basin  of  brass. 

276 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

In  the  cooking  class  alternate  days  are 
given  to  foreign  and  native  cookery.  A  fat 
and  jolly  native,  who  superintended  the 
work,  kindly  welcomed  me  in  her  domain, 
where  the  girls  were  eagerly  devouring  the 
meal  which  they  had  prepared,  of  fish,  rice, 
and  fruits. 

The  native  love  of  floriculture  is  worked 
out  in  the  gardens,  where  scholars  are  al- 
lowed the  freedom  of  perfecting  their  own 
plans  and  following  their  individual  ideas. 
As  a  result,  the  beds  were  bright  with  beauti- 
ful and  thrifty  blossoms. 

President  Naruse 

Unity  is  the  watchword  of  Japan.  It  is 
the  land  of  mighty  results  from  small  begin- 
nings. It  has  no  multimillionaire,  no  Pier- 
pont  Morgan  or  Carnegie  as  munificent  bene- 
factor, but  it  has  loyal,  loving  hearts,  and 
patriots  willing  to  give  generously  from  the 
fortunes  that  are  small.  In  America,  where 
we  give  by  millions,  and  have  barely  time  to 
utter  a  polite  "  thank  you  "  for  a  few  thou- 
sands, we  can  hardly  grasp  the  brave  effort 
of  President  Naruse,  who  fathered  the  insti- 
tution, and  his  supreme  gratitude  for  all 

277 


A  Woman  Alone 

donations.  Thousands  here  are  more  than 
millions  in  America,  where  institutions  are 
born  in  the  night,  and  seem  like  indigenous 
plants  with  a  spontaneous  growth.  In  the 
Nippon  isle  the  scale  is  never  colossal,  the 
resources  are  Lilliputian,  but  faith  is  gigan- 
tic, and  results  come  with  long,  untiring 
effort. 

A  few  figures  will  be  a  practical  illus- 
tration of  the  relative  values  of  things  in 
Japan,  and  will  prove  the  tremendous  energy 
of  the  founder  and  his  heroic  faith  in  the 
new  institution. 

Count  Okuma 

Valiant  supporters  have  upheld  Naruse 
from  the  start.  Count  Okuma,  Japan's  great 
statesman,  chairman  of  the  trustees,  has 
worked  with  him  from  the  beginning  of  the 
plan.  In  the  political  world  he  has  Written 
his  name  on  the  scroll  of  fame.  He  is  a 
hero,  a  living  martyr  to  his  principles,  wear- 
ing a  wooden  leg  as  the  result  of  a  dastardly 
attack  upon  his  person  years  ago.  He  has 
brightened  the  lustre  of  his  noble  name  by 
the  strong  stand  he  has  taken  for  the  advance- 
ment of  woman. 

278 


MR.    DOGURA 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Other  Benefactors  of  the  University 

Other  great  names  are  enshrined  in  the 
hearts  of  the  appreciative  people.  The  noted 
Mitsui  family  gave  four  and  a  half  acres 
as  the  site  of  the  new  University.  In  the 
day  of  doubt,  when  darkness  brooded  over 
the  whole  embryonic  scheme,  Mr.  Dogura 
and  Mme.  Hiro-oka  each  gave  five  thousand 
yen,  and  generously  told  Mr.  Naruse  that  if 
the  plan  failed,  they  would  have  no  regret 
for  the  money.  These  were  all  monumental 
gifts,  when  one  considers  the  miniature  scale 
of  things  Japanese.  Mr.  Ichizaemon  Mori- 
mura  has  the  fame  of  being  the  largest  donor 
to  the  University.  Recently,  in  the  name  of 
his  family,  he  presented  thirty  thousand  yen 
cash,  or  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  to  the  Uni- 
versity, the  largest  gift  ever  made  by  any  one 
person  in  Japan  to  such  an  institution. 

Every  individual  feels  herself  essential  to 
the  good  of  all,  and  faculty  and  pupils  unite 
for  general  welfare,.  A  sense  of  personal 
ownership  pervades,  which  stimulates  the 
work  and  gives  a  loyal  public  spirit.  The 
thought  of  individual  responsibility  is  a 
guarantee  for  the  success  of  the  whole.  The 
founder  has  extensive  plans  for  the  future, 

279 


A  Woman  Alone 

and  he  sees  in  this  hopeful  beginning  the 
germs  of  a  grand  development.  The  Uni- 
versity is  founded  for  the  betterment  of 
woman,  which  means  the  uplift  of  mother- 
hood, and  that  means  the  good  of  the  nation. 
It  is  planted  on  the  hill,  to  be  a  centre  of 
light,  to  wield  a  force  for  good,  to  carry  a 
wealth  of  knowledge  throughout  the  empire. 
That  woman's  name  shall  be  honoured  and 
her  power  for  righteousness  be  increased  is 
the  object  of  the  institution. 

The  Academy  of  Music 

We  always  feel  a  patriotic  pride  when  we 
trace  a  foreign  virtue  to  its  origin  on  the 
home  soil,  and  the  Hub  of  America,  some- 
times called  the  Hub  of  the  Universe,  may 
rightly  claim  to  be  the  origin  of  the  institu- 
tion which  stands  among  stately  trees  and 
sacred  tombs  in  Ueno  Park,  a  joy  and  bless- 
ing to  hundreds  of  students  who  knock  at  its 
doors. 

Mr.  Mason 

Twenty  years  ago,  a  musical  man  from 
Japan  came  to  America.  He  noted  the  pop- 

280 


MME.    HIRO-OKA  MR.    MORIMURA 

BENEFACTORS    OF    THE    UNIVERSITY 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ular  education  of  the  country  and  the  musical 
intelligence  of  the  people.  In  the  Boston 
schools  he  found  an  enthusiast  who  was 
teaching  the  children  with  marked  success. 
The  gentleman  transported  this  gifted  leader 
to  his  own  country,  believing  him  the  one 
man  capable  to  impart  that  musical  love  and 
life  which  would  be  a  lasting  blessing  in 
Japan.  The  Boston  teacher  first  tilled  the 
ground  and  sowed  the  seed  which  others 
have  cultivated,  till  a  mighty  growth  results, 
and  branches  from  the  mother-tree  have 
sprung  up  all  over  the  island.  New  ideas 
are  always  hard  to  plant.  The  school  which 
stands  for  broad  musical  culture  had  its 
fierce  struggle,  and  its  long  day  of  proba- 
tion, when  it  was  small  and  obscure,  an  un- 
recognized factor  in  the  community. 

Ueno  Park 

The  Musical  Academy  rears  its  walls  to- 
day upon  historic  ground.  Great  changes 
have  come  in  the  empire  since  the  time  when 
the  last  shogun  defied  the  emperor  in  bloody 
battle  upon  the  beautiful  field  of  Ueno.  No 
one  heeds  the  shogun  now.  He  is  a  private 
citizen,  living  in  retirement.  Occasionally 

281 


A  Woman  Alone 

he  worships  at  the  tomb  of  his  ancestors,  but 
never  again  will  he  oppose  the  emperor  as  in 
the  days  of  bygone  power.  He  is  the  last 
of  a  long  and  illustrious  line,  but  he  has 
accepted  the  inevitable,  the  reign  of  his  rival 
as  the  recognized  head.  Lately  he  met  with 
an  accident,  while  driving  privately  in  the 
capital  which  he  once  ruled.  What  contrast 
to  those  days  of  gorgeous  cavalcades  and 
gilded  glory,  when  he  was  followed  by  a 
mighty  retinue  of  noble  daimios  and  brave 
samurai,  a  resplendent  pageant  to  do  him 
homage.  Marks  of  the  imperial  struggle 
are  still  seen  on  the  posts  of  Ueno,  and 
thoughts  of  the  late  revolution  sweep  over 
the  modern  historian  who  passes  through  the 
wonderful  park  for  entrance  at  the  doors  of 
the  academy,  which  only  six  years  ago  was 
in  embryo.  Then  the  school  of  sixty  mem- 
bers received  a  push  and  an  impulse,  and 
it  now  enrolls  more  than  four  hundred  pu- 
pils, with  five  foreigners  included  in  its 
faculty  of  thirty  teachers.  The  scholars  pay 
the  merely  nominal  fee  of  one  or  two  yen 
a  month,  a  small  fraction  of  the  cost,  that 
the  scholar  may  feel  that  he  gives  his  mite 
and  retains  his  self-respect. 


282 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

Prof.  August  Yunker 

Great  strides  have  been  made  since  Mr. 
Mason  gave  his  first  music  lesson  in  Japan. 
He  found  general  ignorance  regarding  for- 
eign music.  We  find  general  intelligence 
and  a  hunger  and  thirst  for  the  best. 

The  success  of  the  early  beginnings  has 
been  furthered  by  the  energy,  ability,  and 
ambition  of  the  present  director.  Prof.  Au- 
gust Yunker  is  a  German,  proud  to  call  him- 
self American,  one  whose  loyalty  to  the  land 
of  his  adoption  is  revealed  in  every  refer- 
ence. He  has  the  natural  musical  love,  the 
fire,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  true  German. 
As  skilled  violinist,  he  played  for  many  years 
under  Theodore  Thomas  in  the  Boston  Sym- 
phony. The  academy  had  neither  orchestra 
nor  chorus  when  he  came  to  Tokio.  The 
regime  was  more  chaotic  than  systematic. 
He  established  method  and  developed  order. 
He  imparted  zeal  and  created  enthusiasm, 
like  the  true-born  teacher.  He  worked  for  a 
standard,  with  all  the  ardour  born  of  broad 
culture  and  pure  love.  Results  have  fol- 
lowed upon  his  earnest  efforts.  The  visitor 
who  recalls  the  recent  seclusion  of  these  peo- 
ple, their  late  awakening  and  acceptance  of 

=83 


A  Woman  Alone 

things  foreign  and  up-to-date,  is  unprepared 
for  the  burst  of  modern  music  which  greets 
him,  and  mutters  in  wonderment  as  he 
threads  the  long  corridors,  "  Just  like  any 
college  of  music  in  America."  It  is  hard 
to  grasp  the  truth  that  one  hears  and  sees 
Boston  methods  in  Ueno  Academy. 

In  the  Class-room 

English  is  an  important  branch  of  the 
work,  and  a  class  of  thirty  boys  and  girls 
were  correcting  their  exercises,  just  as  Ameri- 
can scholars  struggle  with  their  Latin  prose, 
and  were  differentiating  with  difficulty  be- 
tween the  adverb  "  too  "  and  the  preposition 
"  to."  The  efforts  of  teacher  and  pupils 
were  patient  and  earnest,  but  her  native  pro- 
nunciation of  the  foreign  tongue  left  it  far 
from  being  intelligible,  and  accented  the  need 
of  a  foreign  teacher  for  a  foreign  language. 
The  politeness  and  ceremony  which  mark  a 
Japanese  class-room  leave  no  room  for  joke 
or  levity,  and  impress  the  stranger  with  a 
dignity  which  is  almost  cold  and  stolid.  In 
such  high  respect  is  the  teacher  held  that 
anything  approaching  chumship  or  comrade- 


284 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

ship  is  unknown  to  the  formal  Japanese 
mind. 

In  the  practice-room  there  appeared  the 
same  devotion  to  art.  The  student,  begin- 
ning or  advanced,  kept  steadily  at  work, 
without  regard  to  the  visitor  who  read  the 
notes  or  followed  the  execution.  Once  or 
twice  a  giggling  little  girl  did  show  a  con- 
sciousness of  company,  which  proved  her 
quite  human,  while  her  companions  had  been 
decidedly  statuesque  as  far  as  any  emotion 
was  concerned. 

The  jarring,  jangling  notes  of  their  pianos 
would  have  tried  the  heart  and  the  nerves 
of  any  music-lover.  The  institution  cannot 
entrust  its  few  grand  instruments,  which  are 
reserved  for  state  occasions,  to  the  constant 
pounding  of  unskilled  fingers.  Usually  the 
pupils  have  no  instrument  in  their  homes, 
and  the  practice  required,  of  two  or  three 
hours  daily,  is  done  at  the  conservatory,  and 
an  instrument  which  comes  under  the  ham- 
mer of  many  children  gets  a  wear  and  tear 
not  common  in  the  private  home.  A  piano 
in  Japan  is  a  luxury,  only  to  be  found  in 
princely  homes.  The  comfortable  middle 
class  in  Japan  is  very  poor,  poverty  poor,  if 
judged  by  our  standards,  and  the  necessity 

285 


A  Woman  Alone 

of  the  American  miner  or  day  labourer 
would  be  a  luxury  in  Japan.  A  number  of 
scholars  own  a  harmonicum,  made  in  Japan, 
of  three  or  four  octaves,  which  would  cost 
fifty  or  sixty  yen,  and  this  is  a  matter  of  wild 
extravagance.  A  grander  instrument  would 
be  far  beyond  their  reach. 

Attending  school  six  days  in  the  week, 
from  eight  A.  M.  till  four  P.  M.,  these  pupils 
are  not  all  children,  but  many  of  them  are 
beyond  their  teens.  Some  are  earnest  young 
men.  Others  are  married  women  of  twenty- 
three  or  five  years,  devoting  their  time  to 
music.  Often  the  husbands  are  army  or  navy 
men,  away  for  months  or  years,  and  the  little 
wives,  living  at  home,  leave  the  babies  in  the 
care  of  their  elders  while  they  are  away 
at  the  conservatory.  These  people,  so  long 
trammelled  by  tradition,  and  so  recently  re- 
vealed to  themselves,  are  consumed  with  the 
zeal  for  learning.  Often,  too,  they  have  the 
money  interest  at  stake,  which  is  a  goad  to 
their  ambition.  The  Ueno  school  stands 
well,  and  with  advancing  years  the  entrance 
examinations  have  grown  harder.  They  de- 
mand intelligence  in  the  applicants,  and 
many  have  been  turned  away  who  did  not 
come  up  to  the  standard.  On  completing 

286 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

the  course,  graduates  receive  a  diploma  and 
go  out  as  authorized  teachers,  whose  work 
is  respected  in  the  land.  A  salary  of  thirty 
yen  a  month  seems  very  large,  and  fifty  yen, 
earned  by  teachers  exceptionally  good,  is  a 
princely  sum  for  those  whose  needs  are  few 
and  living  expenses  light. 


The  visitor  to  Professor  Yunker's  classes 
receives  a  startling  surprise,  both  for  the 
matter  and  the  manner  of  the  music  ren- 
dered. His  sympathy  and  magnetism  have 
broken  down  the  national  formality  and  re- 
serve, and  warm  German  friendship,  born 
of  large  heart  and  musical  love,  prevails. 
Spontaneity  has  replaced  stolidity,  and  one 
feels  the  sympathy  existing  between  teacher 
and  scholar.  The  pupils  long  to  prove  their 
power,  as  they  catch  the  glow  of  his  burning 
enthusiasm.  He  inspires  them  to  noble 
achievement.  He  stirs  the  natural  respon- 
siveness of  youth  in  contrast  with  the  dull 
repression  in  the  presence  of  the  native 
teacher.  He  numbers  among  his  products 
a  lady  who  has  for  some  time  been  teacher 
to  the  crown  princess.  Another  of  his 

287 


A  Woman  Alone 

scholars  went  abroad  to  continue  her  work 
under  Joachim,  and  has  returned  as  a  superb 
artiste  in  her  own  country.  It  was  certainly 
keen  pleasure  to  the  wanderer  to  hear  the 
orchestral  rendering  of  Schubert's  Unfin- 
ished Symphony.  I  might  shut  my  eyes  and 
believe  that  I  listened  to  the  trained  orches- 
tras at  home.  It  was  difficult  to  realize 
that  little  Japanese  people  were  doing  the 
good  work.  Violins,  flutes,  oboes,  bass  viols, 
'cellos  caught  the  spirit  of  their  leader,  and 
were  true  to  his  efficient  teaching. 

The  amazing  results  of  the  chorus  proved 
the  latent  possibilities  in  raw  material  when 
a  superior  guide,  with  the  very  genius  for 
teaching,  is  untrammelled  in  his  work.  The 
chorus  opened  with  a  simultaneous  and  vig- 
orous attack.  Smoothness  and  evenness  were 
a  happy  feature.  Shading  and  phrasing,  so 
essential  to  effective  results,  were  carefully 
worked  out.  Enunciation  was  distinct,  and 
again  I  found  it  hard  to  realize  that  the 
clear  and  clean-cut  English  rang  from  Japa- 
nese throats.  It  is  so  seldom  that  the  native 
gets  our  accent  straight  and  pure  that  the 
fine  result  must  be  accredited  to  the  in- 
structor. 

A  high  standard  of  classic  composition  is 
288 


In  the  Heart  of  Japan 

preserved.  An  air  from  Schumann  was 
beautifully  rendered.  Selections  from  Men- 
delssohn's "  Paulus "  and  from  Haydn's 
"  Creation  "  were  triumphs  of  execution. 

Two  visits  of  the  empress  during  the  year, 
when  the  best  efforts  are  put  forth  in  con- 
certs, give  great  stimulus  to  the  ambitious 
students.  Among  his  foreign  assistants,  Pro- 
fessor Yunker  has  had  for  some  years  a 
French  priest  who  is  skilled  in  harmony, 
counterpoint,  and  the  organ.  With  praise 
or  blame,  the  professor  is  most  impartial. 
He  believes  that  the  girls  are  generally  more 
patient  and  more  gifted  than  the  boys,  and 
therefore  they  show  better  results.  There 
are  especial  prodigies  among  these  little 
midgets,  and  the  same  petty  weaknesses  crop 
out,  the  same  envy  and  jealousy  are  shown, 
among  these  geniuses  of  lesser  growth  as 
appear  in  other  nations  among  famed  musi- 
cians. Great  stars  are  frail,  and  subject  to 
heartburnings.  Bitter  rivalries  exist  be- 
tween world-wide  geniuses.  These  little 
novices  are  just  as  human,  and  musical  war- 
fare often  wages  near  the  shoguns'  tombs 
beneath  the  shade  and  in  the  classic  halls  of 
Ueno.  Often  these  lesser  stars  are  criticized 
and  ridiculed,  spiked  and  impaled,  with  all 

289 


A  Woman  Alone 

the  native  rigour  and  stoicism  of  bitter  war, 
for  no  other  reason  than  their  superiority 
and  excellence. 

May  it  be  the  last  great  boom  of  woman's 
higher  education  that  in  her  greatness  she 
shall  put  aside  all  pettiness.  May  her 
broader  culture  and  her  larger  vision  lift  her 
out  of  self,  to  make  her  just  and  generous 
to  rival  friend  or  foe.  Till  that  day  dawns, 
at  home  or  abroad,  woman's  education  has 
failed  of  success,  and  she  is  neither  well 
educated  nor  truly  great. 


THE  END. 


290 


INDEX 


Academy   of    Music,    Tokio, 

280-290. 
Arai,  Mr.,  94. 
Arashiyama   Rapids,    27,    56- 

61. 

Art,  Japanese,   186-188,  264. 
Artificial  flowers,  265-266. 
Arts  and  crafts,  119-128. 
Asylum,  A  visit  to  the,  181- 

100. 
Athletic  Association,  62. 

Barnes,  Mary  Sheldon,  269. 
Baths,  Public,  6-7,  83-84,  89- 

90,    109-110. 

BMnd,  The,   12-13,  185-186. 
Benkei,  49-50. 
Boothby,   Sir  Brooks,   147. 
Box-making     industry,     123- 

124. 
Buddhism,  200-210. 

Cherry  -  blossom      festivities, 

26-36. 

Chuzenji,  103-107,  108. 
Consumption,   Prevalence  of, 

230-231. 
Customs  inspection,     2. 

Daisha,  Kobe,  88,  104. 
Damien,   Father,   172. 
Dancing,    193- 195. 
Deaf    and    dumb,    The,    182- 
185,   187. 


Dogura,  Mr.,  279. 

Earthquakes,  5-6. 
Embroidery,   i,  262-264. 


Family  life,  9,  12,  86-87, 
H7,    120-121,    135-136,    149- 
150. 

Fencing,  203-204. 

Fuji,  Mount,  i,  88,  91. 

Fur  industry,  119-120. 

Geishas,  34,  39,  77,  78,  93-94. 

96,   114-115,   137,    140,   191- 

199. 
Girls'  High  School  of  Tokio, 

266-269. 
Girls'    Industrial    School    of 

Tokio,   261-266. 
"Great   Hell,"   90-91. 

Hagiwara   and  his  inn,   159- 

160,   163-166,   176. 
Heihachee,    the    Guide,    157- 

163,    165-166,   175-178. 
Fewes,    Miss,  274-275. 
H'deyoshi,   97. 
Hiro-oka,  Mme.,  279. 

lemitsu,  97. 

leyasu,  97,  102. 

Ikao,    142-152,    I5S-IS8,   177- 

Hot   Springs,    147. 

Ikao  House,  156,  160. 


291 


Index 


Iron-cloth,   148-149. 
Kindayu     House,     143-146, 

147,    156,    177. 
Shops,  147-148. 
Inari,  153. 

Judo  School,  210-217. 

Kakke,   Prevalence  of,  231. 
Kano,   Professor,  210-211. 
Kawada,   Mr.,  258-259. 
Kindayu,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  143- 

146,    156-157- 
Kioto,  29,  30-47,  54,  56,  57, 

71,  234- 

Asylum,  181-190. 
Ceremonious  tea-party,  30- 

33- 
Cherry-blossom   dance,   33- 

36. 

Kioto  Hotel,  69,  189,  190. 
Public  procession  of  pros- 
titutes,  36-47. 
Wrestling,  61-68. 
Kitai,  86. 
Kobe,  29. 
Kusatsu,   166-174. 
Leper  village,   170-173. 
Sulphur    baths,    155,    166- 
170. 

Lake    Biwa    Canal,    54-56. 
Lake   Chuzenji,   106. 
Lake    Hakone,   87-89. 
Lake  Yumoto,  108-110,  151. 
Lepers,  164,  170-173. 

Maebashi,  143,  148. 
Mason,    Mr.,   280-281,    283. 
Massage,  School  of,  188-191. 
Matsushima,   137,    140. 
Miidera,    50. 
Mitsui,    House    of,    242-249, 

279. 
Miyanpshita,   84-86. 

Fugiya  Hotel,  85. 

Shops,  86. 
Monkeys,  Sacred,  100,  126. 


Morimura,   Ichizaemon,   279. 
Music,   Native,   125-126,   196- 
197. 

Nagoya,  75-78. 

Castle,  76-77. 
Nantaizan,   107-108. 
Naruse,     President,    269-270, 

277-278,   279. 
Nectarine    of    Yokohama,    2, 

21-25. 

Nicolai,  Bishop,  219-225. 
Nikko,   92-103,    106,    111-133, 

148. 

Procession    of     the     Sho- 
guns'  spirits,  92,  97-103. 

Shops,  93,  113-128. 

Temple  bell,  131-132. 

Wet  season,  128-130. 
Nippon   Yusen   Kaisha,   255- 

258. 

Okuma,  Count,  270,  278. 
Otani,  Kahei,  235-241. 

Perry,  Commodore,   151. 
Pine-tree,  The  Sacred,  51-54. 
Politeness,   8-9,    17-19,    52-54, 

71-72,  75,   118,   151-152- 
Prostitutes,  Public  procession 

of,  at  Kioto,  36-47. 

Railroad,   Travelling  by,   69- 

75,   140-142. 
Red    Cross    in   Japan,    The, 

225-233. 

Rice  culture,  249-251. 
Rice   Exchange,  251-253. 
Rikshas  and  rikmen,  2-5,  48, 

52-53,  65,  75,  77,  84-85,  104- 

106,  1 10,  159,  175-176,  248- 

249. 

Sanitation,  9-10. 
Sendai,  134-139,  165. 

Famous  chests,   134-136. 
Shintoism,  48-49,  98-104,  200. 
Shinto   shrine,   153-154- 


Index 


Silk  industry,  119,  242. 

Sorceress,  A,  154. 

Stock   Exchange,   253-256. 

Sulphur  baths,   155,  166-171. 

Sumida  River,  28. 

Swami  Rah   Tirth,  204-209. 

Tea  etiquette,  30-33,  160,  197- 

199. 

Tea  Industry,  234-241. 
Temples,  48-51. 
Theatre  in  Japan,  The,  19-21, 

33-36,  94,  95-96. 
Tokio,  27,  28,  54,  62,  86,  134, 
141,    143,   201. 
Academy    of    Music,    280- 

290. 
Buddhist   University,    202- 

210. 

French  Convent,  85. 
Girls'    High    School,    266- 

269. 
Girls'     Industrial     School, 

261-266. 

Judo  School,   210-217. 
Mitsui's  store,  243-249. 
Red    Cross    Hospital,    226- 

233- 

Rice   Exchange,  251-253. 
Russian     Mission     and 

Cathedral,    218-225. 
Stock  Exchange,  253-256. 
Ueno    Park,    27,    28,    225, 
280-282. 


Woman's   University,    269- 

280. 

Tsunejira,  Tomita,  210,  214- 
216. 

Ubago,  Hot  Springs  of,  89- 

91. 
Ueno  Park,  27,  28,  225,  280- 

282. 
Uji,  234. 

Welcome   Society,    179-180. 
Woman's     University    of 

Tokio,  269-280. 
Wood-carving  industry,   121- 

122,  148. 
Wrestling  and  wrestlers,  61- 

68,  210-217. 

Yokohama,    1-25,   27,   29,   71, 

235,  236. 

Bazaars,   16. 

Bentendiori,    I. 

Bluff,  The,  I,  4. 

Customs   inspection,  2. 

Honchodori,    i. 

Motomachi,  i. 

Nectarine,  2,  21-25. 

Street  sights,   10-15. 

Theatre,    19-21. 

Theatre   Street,  2,   13-15. 
Yumoto,  151. 
Yunker,    August,    283,    287- 

289. 


293 


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